


Ash and Shadow

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), F/M, Internalized Misogyny, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Misogyny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1978830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frigga locked away Loki's memories so that he could start over again on Midgard, but nothing ever goes according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sentences Are Carried Out

**Author's Note:**

> In the middle of characterization and plot meta discussions, my beta Jessy and I have discussed many a "What if?" scenario. I'm on maternity leave, with middle of the night wakings. This of course means _anything_ sounds fantastic, but this particular idea really grabbed me, and it was written really quickly, even with the obvious distractions of having a newborn added to the chaos of a full household. Not a part of the Siege universe even remotely... you'll see why soon. :)

Frigga walked through the narrow, ice-covered halls. Her heels clicked on the stone flooring, and she kept her back regally straight. Her embroidered skirts swished, and the layers of robes kept the chill from seeping through to her bones. Finally, the warren of halls gave way to a large chamber. It looked as though it had been hewn completely from ice, though in the very center of the room was a large fire with blue flames. Tending it was a woman in black under robes and blue wraps, her back bent with age, straggling white hair falling from beneath the hood of her blue cloak. She was a traditionalist, then; blue was symbolic of death and Hel.

"I had hoped to speak with Karnilla," Frigga said as she entered the ice chamber.

The bent woman did not reply. She fed the fire with a large piece of wood, runes inscribed on its surface. Blood had been worked into the runes, and Frigga knew better than to ask whose blood it was or what the _galdr_ was meant to do.

Once the piece of wood was completely consumed by the fire, the bent woman looked up at Frigga through the blue flames. "You come to change the _spá_ of another. You, who know all the _ørlögs_ of the _wyrd._ Why do you do such a thing?"

Frigga let out a pained breath. "The _spá_ of my son Loki is a tortured thing. It fractures, unravels, bends. It is ugly and painful. I would spare him such if I could."

"Each creature has its own purpose, its own balance." Her eyes were sharp, and Frigga wondered if this was the Norn Skuld, who knew all that would be.

"If his memory was hidden, locked away, he could be different. He could be my son again, not this fractured creature bent on destruction and pain. _I want my son back."_

"He is not of your blood," the woman declared, eyes appearing bloodshot. "You know not of which you speak. Ill tidings will come from this plan."

Karnilla had said the same of the bindings placed on Loki's Jotun form, but it had worked so well for so many years. He had never thought he was different, never guessed that he was a frost giant. Frigga could not regret the spells worked into Loki's body, bound into his flesh and bone, anchored so deeply they would never be removed.

She looked at the woman in front of her, eyes clear and expression open and free of regret. "I work to save my son. Any risk is worth taking."

The woman's mouth worked and twisted, as if she tasted something foul. "This will require the work of deep _seidr,_ as was done to an innocent infant. Complex _sjónhverfing,_ so that he would not recover memories and remain clouded indefinitely, not just out of sight of the casting and unraveling."

_"Yes."_

Clucking and nodding as she peered into the fire, the woman knelt down on the icy floor. "What would you give me for this working?"

"I will work the wisdom chants," Frigga said, moving to kneel opposite the woman, across from the blue flames. "I will protect your form as the spirits ride you, as you reshape the _spá_ and save my son from himself."

"Too many know of his deeds here. Asgard will be no haven, should this even work."

"I will make arrangements," Frigga insisted, expression fierce. "Expulsion saved my trueborn son, it will also save my heartson."

"Then let us begin."

Frigga did indeed know the spells needed for this, but it was too complex a working to attempt on her own. Her strength and focus would not have been enough to put in the anchor points completely, and the spells would have unraveled in time. As it was, she didn't know if this woman's craft was as strong as Karnilla's, but Karnilla wasn't here. Frigga would have to work with what she had, and hope that a sojourn to Midgard wouldn't rip the spells free of their moorings. Loki was a stubborn man, prideful and fragile at the same time. The spells had to work, had to save him. Otherwise, he would be lost.

The woman worked the _seidr_ and reshaped Loki's _spá_ as carefully as Karnilla would have. Frigga maintained the background chants for the woman's workings, and kept her word about guarding the woman's body when darkness abruptly descended in the cavern. Still chanting, Frigga bodily interposed herself to ward off the encroaching spirits hoping to take over the empty shell on the floor. She chanted louder, strengthening the scaffolding for the spellwork to latch onto, and lifted her hands above the body protectively. Her jewelry contained discreet inscriptions of protection runes, especially those required for intense spellwork. The shadows retreated, seeming almost sullen that they were denied their goal.

Finally, the woman opened her eyes. "It is done," she rasped. "May the Norns save us all if it does not hold."

"It will hold," Frigga insisted. "The working is strong and stable."

Though the woman appeared doubtful, she remained silent on the matter. Frigga helped her to a sitting position, then rose to leave. "Where is Karnilla?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion. "She is usually here, but this time you were."

"She is here." The woman cackled and gestured toward the blue flames. "Why did you think the shadows pursued so hard? Her life returned to ashes and shadows, the source of all magicks." She leaned in close to Frigga. "Keep your protections close, my Queen. They will come for you one day, as they close in fast on me. We are the last who know all the _ørlögs,_ as even your Odin has forgotten all he has known."

Recoiling, Frigga shot to her feet as the woman began to laugh, a high, mad cackle.

She left without looking back, and doubled the protection runes on the castle.

***

Loki was in the least of his usual finery, only two layers of fine linen undertunics beneath the braided leather vest and gilded vambraces. His hands were bound in front of him, runic spells worked into the golden links. Thick gold chain connected the cuffs at his wrists to a similarly wrought gold collar. The runes suppressed magic of all kinds, leaving him without one of his main defenses. Frigga stood behind Odin, who sat at the dais with the posture of a conquering warrior. He probed his memories to see why he would be brought for sentencing after being locked away in the dungeon like a common criminal.

Blank. Emptiness where memories should be, only the ghostly afterimage of desperation and pain, disappointment and rage.

"You have allowed enemies of the realm to enter the palace," Odin intoned. Ah, that explained his posture, then. "Your brother was rash and reckless, yes. We have punished him for his arrogance, and he has learned humility." Loki frowned, eyes skipping toward Thor. His brother was standing along the sidelines, truly appearing contrite.

"Father," Loki began, surprised when his voice came out as a wrecked rasp. "I have no memory of this. I've lost time."

Odin blew out a breath. "For your crime, Loki, you must be punished. Thor was sent to Midgard, and learned humility there." He straightened in his seat. "So you will also be sent to Midgard, to atone for your own arrogance and thoughtlessness."

"I can't remember that," Loki said, certain he sounded calm even though panic was threatening to choke him. "I don't remember his ordeal or his return."

"It was easier to bind Thor and make him mortal." Odin stared at Loki, who was just starting to feel horrified at the thought of losing his magic. "But the binding had... _consequences,_ and your lost memory is one of them. So not all of your magic was suppressed, but enough of it that you will not have it readily at your disposal."

Loki looked at Odin, horrified. "Father—"

"The sentence will be carried out immediately." Odin raised a hand, gesturing to Frigga. "Your lady mother will send you to Midgard. She made arrangements for you."

Arrangements did not include allowing Loki to pack his own belongings. "Thor had nothing when he was banished," Frigga told him, but that was no comfort. "I believe it may have been too harsh, so I have found those on Midgard to work with."

Stopping cold at the gate to the Bifrost, Loki looked out at it in horror. "You set _watchers_ over me, as if I were in swaddling clothes?" The way the Bifrost shimmered looked slightly different at the end of it, next to Heimdall's observatory, but that didn't mean as much to him as the fact that Frigga set mortals to watch over his ignominy.

"There is a furnished suite for you, rather than a cold road and the kindness of strangers."

"They are strangers to me," Loki replied petulantly.

Frigga paused, appearing discomfited for a moment. "I would rearrange the stars and heavens for you, Loki. You must know that. You are my beloved son, student and friend."

Something like shame burned through Loki's gut, heavy and uncomfortable. "I didn't believe there would truly be harm."

"I know. But the consequences of both your actions left us at war with Jotunheim."

"They are nothing," Loki replied with a sneer. "Poor savages, monsters in the dark. Father will put them to heel again soon enough."

If anything, that only seemed to unsettle Frigga more than bring comfort. "Your father will see to Asgard's safety, as he always does. You see to your soul. We will know when you're ready to return home once more."

The lack of time frame for this punishment was unsettling, but he supposed that this was better than being accused of treason. "What am I to do on Midgard?" he demanded. "It is a useless backwater realm, not worth visiting."

"It has changed much since your childhood," Frigga told him gently. "I think you will be surprised at what you could learn from the mortals."

"How to die?" he sneered.

Frigga grasped his arm tightly, pinching him through leather and three layers of fabric. Loki winced; she was truly angry with him, then. "You will learn restraint and respect. You will learn to atone for your actions."

Heimdall set them down on the balcony of a high tower. An assortment of mortals was there to greet them. One glared at him, though Loki couldn't imagine why he would. There was a lone female there, and to Loki's shock it was to this woman that Frigga approached. "You must be Natasha. I had spoken with the director of your organization."

Natasha nodded sharply. Loki simply stared at her. She had red hair, green eyes and a youthful appearance that was pleasing to the eye. The truly shocking thing was her state of dress. She wore a fitted shirt that displayed her ample curves, even if it did not reveal her skin, buttoned up the front with a rounded collar exposing her collarbones. Scandalous. Even worse, she wore a slim skirt that fell to her knees, and high heels that accentuated the curves of her legs. _Her legs!_ As if she didn't care that all and sundry could see the shape of her legs or the sweep of her hip and thighs.

Loki had seen Sif's legs during training for years, but he had become inured to Sif. She was around so often and had trained with them so often, she was all but a sister. It was scandalous to the nobility of Asgard, who still expected Sif to wear the long layers of robes that would drape across her body, obscuring the shape of her hips and legs entirely. The robes and dress layers meant that only a husband would see the true shape of her or be able to ogle her skin. That was modesty on Asgard, and Sif cheerfully flaunted those conventions. Loki ceased to care about Sif's dress. But watching this woman walk toward Frigga, a sway in her hips and a hint of a smile on her lips... Oh no, this was no sister to ignore. Loki's breath quickened at the sight of her in spite of himself; by the Tree, whores displayed themselves in such a manner, and his mother would bind him to such a one as this?

Apparently she was an Agent of an organization named SHIELD, as was the man that glared at him and the muscled blond man that seemed to be a good deal friendlier. The man with the goatee and the man with glasses didn't seem to do more than stare at him uncomfortably. Her full name was Natasha Romanoff, and she was to be his handler on Midgard. Loki openly gaped at her, and turned to Frigga incredulously. "Handler?"

"Someone to serve as a go between for you and the rest of the world. Though I would advise you to use your glamours liberally," Natasha said, her voice deadpan. "Unless those were taken away as well." There was an edge there that Loki could sense, but not the why of it. Perhaps she resented having to work with him. Perhaps she preferred a different profession?

"Go between for what? Physical contact?" Loki blurted, looking at Frigga incredulously.

Natasha's expression darkened, but Frigga understood what Loki was asking. "No, no, Loki. This is how ladies dress on Midgard."

_"What?"_

Frigga looked at Natasha apologetically. "Perhaps teaching him of Midgard's ways would allow for fewer misunderstandings? We really have no idea what is common in this time, and he meant no disrespect. Right, Loki?" Frigga asked, an edge to her voice.

"But... But..." Loki sputtered, looking at Natasha with wide eyes. Her expression was cool, but that edge was there again. "This realm makes no sense," he finally huffed.

"Be that as it may, this realm will be your home until Odin feels you've atoned." She gave Loki a fond smile, touching his arm gently. Before he could say a word, she stepped back to allow Heimdall to return her to Asgard.

That left Loki in the company of strangers, none of whom looked particularly enthusiastic to see him. It was going to be a long banishment.

***

Tony Stark was the irreverent owner of the Tower, and let Loki stay in a suite of rooms overlooking Midtown. They were sparsely furnished, done up in hardwoods and forest green, which actually suited his taste. He was startled by Loki's heartfelt thanks; perhaps he thought nothing of his generosity? By the way Tony spoke, Loki guessed that he would be one of the landed and monied citizens of Midgard, though Tony didn't understand the term "jarl." A disembodied voice interrupted regarding the Nordic history of the term, startling Loki. "Wait a minute... Asgard culture is probably similar to Nordic, then," Tony guessed. "Jarvis, put together a primer on old Nordic customs. We'll all read up on that," he told Loki. "And we'll put together a summary of twenty-first century New York customs."

"I thank you, Tony Stark. I understand this is a difficult adjustment for us all, particularly as my stay is indeterminate and apparently not very welcome."

"Yeah, well..." He looked as though he would have wanted to say something more, but stopped himself from speaking. "You'll be in SHIELD's custody, really, and answering to them through Natasha. You probably shouldn't insult her all the time."

Loki frowned. "It was not deliberate. But those in her state of dress on Asgard..." He paused, trying to find a polite way to phrase it. "Women of that class often barter for their time and companionship, while women of higher class and breeding are more modestly dressed. Every physical feature of their bodies is obscured by robes."

"Trust me, that's modest," Tony said brightly. "Business casual dress, tailored and very classy, actually. Hey. I'm sure someone will be really, really upset if I introduce you to porn. But that's what the internet is for, right?"

"I don't follow your logic," Loki admitted slowly. "Is this a Midgardian beast?"

Tony grinned widely at Loki, and Loki had the distinct impression that Tony was a trickster at heart. The two likely would get along if Loki could just understand the references that Tony kept making. With time, he supposed he could learn them, and Odin certainly promised him nothing but time on Midgard.

"Nope. Far more interesting. If you need anything, ask Jarvis to help you out. He'll filter out the bullshit, since you don't know enough about our world."

"Is this your invisible majordomo?"

"An AI, actually. That's artificial intelligence."

"I'm aware of the concept."

"Oh," Tony said, sounding nonplused. He pulled out a Starkpad tablet. "Because if you were uncomfortable with the idea, I could arrange for you to use one of these. You can touch the screen and read—"

"Ah," Loki murmured, peering at it. He plucked the tablet from Tony's outstretched hand and started poking at it with a comfortable manner. "I had one like this when I was a child. Not the newest model, of course, my mother feared I would be careless and break it."

Tony blinked; he had developed a whole new interface and OS, and all of the engineering and computer magazines had declared that the design was bleeding edge. "Huh. Maybe we could talk about design specs or something."

"Certainly. I have few enough pursuits on Midgard to occupy my time."

"What'd you used to do on Asgard, then?" Tony asked, taking back the tablet and leading Loki from his suite to the common areas.

"There was much study of various magical arts, training with the palace guards and our comrades, history of the Nine Realms, languages, decorum, various courtly arts, rhetoric, political theory..." Loki shrugged. "Though there is the view that the royal house was idle, there was much to occupy the hours of the day. It was not physical drudgery as the karls would know, but it is still difficult and kept me busy."

Clearly surprised again, Tony nodded. "Huh. Think tank stuff and some self-defense. Well, I suppose you can do similar stuff here. We'll make arrangements, then. I think Cap and Natasha might be your best bet for physical training, unless SHIELD wants you in their gym."

Loki frowned. "But she has these handler duties, whatever those may be. Are they not strenuous as it is? She appeared... delicate."

"I think you'd need to take that up with her," Tony replied diplomatically. He seemed amused by something in that statement, though Loki couldn't imagine what that could be.

"Oh? You are not her superior officer within this SHIELD?"

"Definitely not," Tony choked. "Hey, Jarvis, whenever that conversation goes down, be sure to record it, buddy."

"Of course, sir," the disembodied voice replied. "Unless it meets Agent Romanoff's security protocols. She would have to authorize any releases of information in that occasion."

"Damn. Well, maybe she'll throw me a bone," Tony mused.

"Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers are not on the premises at the moment, and Agent Barton categorically refused to accommodate this endeavor."

"I remember," Tony replied with a sigh. "Well, Bruce won't mind too much. You can spend some time think tanking with us, then."

Confused, Loki merely followed in his wake.

***

Over the next few days, every time Loki met with Natasha seemed to lead to a grotesque comedy of errors. What he thought were compliments, she saw as insults. He said she was a "darling girl," "exquisitely formed" or "built for companionship" when speaking to her. His compliments to her clothing usually referred to various parts of her anatomy. At least he didn't imply she sold her favors, though that was a near thing. During those moments, she glared at him or replied in a tone so chilled he wondered if she held ice magic beneath her skin. Loki didn't understand it; these worked for Fandral _all the time._ Why did Natasha look upon him with scorn for the same compliments?

The times he saw her dress for practicing in the gym, his eyes widened in what must have been a comic sight and he had ogled the bare skin revealed by her sports bra and low slung yoga pants. It was an unprecedented view outside of the rent houses, yet he was assured by the menfolk that she dressed quite modestly indeed when not deliberately trying to secure lustful attention.

Loki seemed to trip over his words around her, which he berated himself for. He didn't do such things around Sif, and was comfortable with Sif as a warrior. She was his sister, for all intents and purposes. He didn't even consider her womanly virtues, and focused more on her warrior skills when planning battle strategy. For some reason, he wanted Natasha kneeling in front of him in supplication, begging for mercy. It was a rather extreme reaction to his embarrassment regarding her dress and station.

The more he stared at her, particularly when she sparred with Steve Rogers or Clint Barton, he realized the obvious explanation for his fascination was quite clear.

He was infatuated with her.

He managed to get her alone in the kitchen a week after that realization, and their relationship hadn't improved at all by then. She didn't seem to enjoy his attention or attempts to speak with her, even though she was his handler. She was to help with his needs and transition to Midgardian culture, but seemed quite content in letting Jarvis do it.

Was it his magic? Nearly two weeks of nightly practice told him that he had been stripped of the _spá_ and _galdr_ entirely. His use of the _seidr _was sharply curtailed, limited to glamours and baby magicks; portals and teleportation were beyond his ken now, and those had been his mainstays. Runic magic seemed intact, though he had never relied heavily on it before his banishment.__

__Loki smiled at Natasha, who was making tea and toast with orange slices for breakfast. "This is a light meal, even by Midgardian custom, is it not? Steve has waffles, pancakes, eggs, and many breakfast meats. He eats nearly as much as Volstagg."_ _

__Natasha didn't even smile. "Were you hungry?" she asked evenly._ _

__"For discourse with you."_ _

__"Any particular topic?" she asked. There was no inflection in her tone, but Loki couldn't shake the feeling that she was disgusted with him. Had he truly insulted her so badly that he could not restore his esteem in her eyes? He usually could be quite charming if he set his mind to such a task, though the balls and musicales of jarl society seldom sparked his interest in such a way._ _

__"The cultures of Midgard are quite different from that of Asgard," he began with a gracious smile, inclining his head toward her in a gesture of easygoing respect. He would make such a gesture toward women of the jarl class, if he had been of such a mind to actually speak with one of them. Most of those women were simpering girls, only caring for fashion or hairdressing, and only then with the intent of securing a marriage to a suitable jarl. Loki had little interest in such things, though his churlish and aloof manner was not as offputting as he would have liked; his royal status led women to forgive many flaws of character._ _

__Many women, but it seemed not this one._ _

__"I've read a few Norse eddas as soon as I was assigned to be your handler," Natasha told him. "I also spoke with Frigga and Thor about Asgardian culture, and Frigga translated a few popular novels for me, so I would understand the day to day details."_ _

__"Wait a moment. You _knew_ how I would perceive you when we first met! It was deliberate!" Loki gaped when she didn't change expression. "Why would you do that?"_ _

__"Even if I was a whore," Natasha told him coolly, "I would still deserve your respect."_ _

__"They are not accorded such on Asgard."_ _

__"Most of the time, not on Earth either. But you're a prince from Odin's court. You're expected to be better than that."_ _

__The words actually had Loki scowling. "My royal status means nothing here."_ _

__"Do you really believe that?"_ _

__His scowl turned into a frown. "I have no true place here, if not for the generosity of—" He stopped abruptly, something in her expression telling him to stop. "I have a gap in my memory," he began slowly, eyes fixed on hers. "Did something happen?"_ _

__"A lot of things happened here," Natasha replied seriously. "And one of my jobs is to limit how much of that you're aware of."_ _

__Loki's eyes widened at her honesty. "Why?"_ _

__"Why don't you guess?"_ _

__"I did something. Not just on Asgard, but here as well," Loki guessed, still watching her face. He grasped her arm tightly, but she didn't flinch. "Not to you, but..." He thought of the way Clint avoided him, the hatred in his gaze when he couldn't leave the room fast enough. "Barton. I did something to him, didn't I? That's why he hates me. By action or inaction, he came to harm because of me."_ _

__"He wasn't the only one."_ _

__He released her arm and realized he was shaking. "Why tell me this? If you were to keep me ignorant, why tell me this?"_ _

__Her expression softened a fraction. "How can you atone for something you don't remember doing? That's impossible."_ _

__"Can I? Atone for it, I mean. Is that even possible? He hates me so."_ _

__"You won't know until you try."_ _

__Loki grasped her arm, gentler this time, a flush rising in his cheeks. "And you? I didn't harm you, too, did I?" His eyes searched her face desperately. "Barton matters to you, clearly. Not as a lover, I don't think I've seen you gaze at him that way. Is your coldness to me because of whatever wrong I've done to him?"_ _

__"Well, I don't appreciate the names you've called me."_ _

__The flush in his cheeks was almost a mottled red now. "I apologize for my boorishness, Lady Natasha," Loki said quietly. He dropped his hand, fingers trailing along the length of her arm until he caught her hand. He brought it up to his lips and gave her a courtly kiss across her knuckles. "How may I repair the damage I have done to you?"_ _

__Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to see if he was mocking her. He was not, so her gaze relaxed. "It's not what was said to me that matters."_ _

__"Because of your style of dress?" Loki guessed, looking at her in concern. She remained silent, so he kissed her knuckles once more. "It would please you if I repaired the damage done to Barton, then. He is precious to you."_ _

__She looked as though she wanted to say something, but finally only nodded._ _

__"I have limited magicks available to me—"_ _

__"No magic," she said quickly._ _

__Though he frowned at her in confusion, no explanation was forthcoming. "As you wish. You know him best. No magic, then."_ _

__Loki realized he was still holding her hand, his thumb tracing small circles across her fingers. Not a runic shape, exactly, but there was longing in his touch that he hoped she didn't feel. It was embarrassing, he like a god and she a mere mortal. Human tales told of such unions, and they usually didn't end well._ _

__What was he thinking? Union? No, a marriage would never be possible, and as his liaison to the mortals, dalliance was out of the question._ _

__But her skin was soft and supple, the shape of her body pleasing to the eye, her wit quick and dry. She would be such a wonderful companion, however long it lasted, and he was so dreadfully lonely on this realm._ _

__He was leaning in to kiss her before he could stop himself. At the last moment, she turned her head. The kiss landed on her cheek, a friendly peck._ _

__"That's a bad idea," she told him gravely._ _

__He knew that. Truly, he did. "I know," he murmured. "But..."_ _

__But longing and loneliness burned through him. He was exiled here for an indeterminate time, and most of the mortals seemed indifferent to his presence. There were some who outright hated him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and one he would prefer to shy away from._ _

__"If you mean what you say about making it up to others, the first thing to do," she said in severe tones, "is to respect their autonomy."_ _

__Loki saw something hard in her eyes, and wondered at her past. Did it have to do with him, or just her state as a female? They were constantly threatened on Asgard if they had no protector. Was it the same on Midgard? For Natasha to hold significant rank meant she was a warrior of some renown, respected for her skills. But that likely didn't mean much to enemy combatants, who would demean her as any ordinary female._ _

__As he had done himself._ _

__Chastised, Loki nodded and let her hand drop from his. "Forgive me," he murmured, eyes dropping from hers. "You are correct. I was not thinking of your superior officers or the work that you must do."_ _

__"Well," Natasha murmured, a hint of humor in her voice. "You _can_ be taught."_ _

__When Loki looked up, the amusement was in her eyes as well. He couldn't help but smile at her, soft and just as amused. "On occasion, that is so," he joked in kind._ _

__"Then maybe, this particular job won't be as terrible as I thought it was going to be."_ _

__Loki bowed deeply before her, as he would in front of a high jarl. It was the best compliment he could think to give her, even if she didn't understand it, though she seemed to comprehend the intent behind the gesture. He smiled at her warmly, and after a moment she even returned the smile with one of her own._ _

__He could possibly have companionship of a different kind with her. Surprisingly, that didn't trouble him in the slightest._ _

____

***  
***


	2. Accommodations Are Made

_He was falling, stars going past him in the distance. The darkness threatened to swallow him whole._ I only wanted to be your equal. _Disappointment and rage burned through him. How could he not be good enough? He had tried so hard to be worthy. Why couldn't he be loved? What else would he have to do?_

_He fell, kept falling. Finally he stopped, crashing into something that was little more than a rock floating in space. Somehow there was a breathable atmosphere, but no sign of food or water. It was better than falling, but not by much. Madness still threatened to overtake him. He was alone on this blasted piece of rock, at least._

Only, he wasn't.

 _Six fingers. Gray, craggy skin that resembled the rock around them. Beady eyes. Sharp, broken teeth in an angry slash of mouth._ Another death I can give my master.

 _Fear. Harsh, bitter, foul tasting, like sickness in his gut. His insides roiled, and he wanted to scream._ I can't die! _he wanted to say, though his mind was already weak and strained, almost to the breaking point._

Loki woke then, panting and feeling ill. The dream was no ordinary nightmare, he was certain; it felt like a memory or prophetic vision. It made no sense, as he never had prophesied before, and couldn't recall anything like this happening to him before.

Unless it happened during that gap in his memories.

Unable to get back to sleep, Loki got up and dressed in simple clothing. Well, simple for Asgard; it seemed as though silk overtunics and leather were fairly formal on Midgard. _He_ considered these items simple, as there weren't extra layers or the fanciful embroidery of the more formal tunics he would have worn on Asgard. He wandered into the common areas, where he found Natasha awake, wearing loose pajamas that hid her curves, and watching a movie on the large screen television. Tony had told him that everyone living in the tower together was a recent event, and that they had had all gone their separate ways in the past. Loki didn't know what changed their minds, as Tony had merely shrugged and asked to discuss formulae.

"Can't sleep?" she asked.

"I had a dream that woke me. A nightmare."

"What of?"

Loki frowned as he sat on the other end of the couch. "That's just it. I'm not sure it was a nightmare. Nothing terrible happened in it." He briefly described the dream, feeling foolish.

"Six fingers, huh? That's a pretty specific detail."

"Two thumbs," he blurted, holding up his hands to indicate what he had seen. "I know of no race that appears like that."

Natasha looked as though she wanted to say something, but remained silent for a long time. "Tell me about Asgard."

Loki described it in loving terms, crafting an illusion between them so she could see what he was describing. She seemed impressed by magic, even his baby magic, and he let out a sigh. "It is not hubris to say that I am quite talented in these arts." He paused. "It's not... You've read the eddas, you said. I've asked Jarvis about these stories, and those he shared with me are quite similar to Asgardian culture. So you understand that it's not something I am supposed to excel at."

"There were references," Natasha began, somewhat hesitant. He supposed she didn't want to upset him, given the sensitivity of the subject.

"Whatever you've read, imagine worse." He tried to curb the bitterness from his voice, and more or less succeeded. "You must have met my brother Thor during his own exile here."

"Not then. Afterward, we spoke."

"To inform you of my transgressions, no doubt." The bitterness was very evident now, despite his efforts. "Thor is the ideal. Strong, brash, bold and eager to feast and fight. And I... I have magic. Magic is considered a woman's art. Those men who carry the gift to manipulate the _seidr_ especially are often seen as less than a man." He couldn't meet her eyes, his gaze turned inward. "But others always see fit to use the skill in time of need, then berate the user for possessing magic afterward. The mere threat of being _argr_ is enough to invite challenges to fight to the death, you understand."

"Then why continue with it?"

"Because I am good at it. Because it called to me, and I haven't the same talents with the sword or mace or bow. I have skill with a blade, yes, but they deem it trickery and not sword craft in the manner of true men."

Natasha's gaze seemed to weigh heavily on his spine. "You don't sound happy about that aspect of Asgard." She ignored Loki's snort. "What about the rest of it?"

"It's home," he said quietly. He could hear the longing in his voice and didn't try to hide it. "It's beautiful. The golden spires, the sunsets, the fields at the edge of the center land mass... I miss the library and stables, actually." It was different here, he told himself firmly. He wouldn't be seen as weak just because he enjoyed study, because he thought matching wits preferable to randomly swinging a sword about. When Natasha remained silent, he looked up at her, almost dreading what he would see.

She appeared thoughtful, not derisive. "They don't value what you value," she said finally. He shook his head slowly, feeling almost ashamed for admitting that, almost disloyal. Asgard was home, but he didn't fit in as well as he wanted to. He second guessed himself a lot, hoping he wouldn't generate _ergi_ he couldn't negate in some way, hoping he would be able to keep track of all the lies he had to tell.

"There are magicians here," Natasha said in that same quiet, accepting tone. "Male and female, it doesn't matter here the same way as it would on Asgard. The Sorcerer Supreme is Doctor Stephen Strange, as a matter of fact. If you want, I can see about arranging a meeting. He does consulting work for SHIELD sometimes, and I can possibly get in touch with his handler. I suppose the two of you will have a lot to talk about."

"Magic here isn't the same as Asgard, I don't think."

"But it's a start. It's something to keep you busy." Natasha shrugged. "I don't know magic; it was nothing I've ever trained for. But if you trained as much as I think you did, you must miss being able to practice magic."

He did. A lot, actually, and some part of him quailed at being read so easily by a mortal woman he had barely spoken to before.

"I would like that," he murmured after a moment, when it was apparent that Natasha wasn't trying to make fun of him. "What of you? What were you trained for?"

Natasha's lips twisted slightly, and Loki wondered if he was missing something. "I was a spy," she began slowly. She was watching him closely, looking for his reaction. Whatever she saw there encouraged her to continue. "I was trusted. Until I changed sides." Her lips twisted again, this time into a sardonic grin at the sight of his surprise. "Funny how that happens. I gave up one country for another. One country for an ideal. I didn't think of it that way at the time. Call me crazy. But I just wanted to be free."

"Free of what?"

"I had handlers once upon a time. But they weren't kind or helpful."

"Not as you're being," Loki said when she seemed to falter.

"I know from them what not to be," Natasha said finally. "Sometimes, negative examples are just as important as positive ones."

Loki smiled encouragingly at her. "Thank you for telling me that," he said when she fell silent, her gaze heavy on him. "I have the feeling you don't discuss it often."

"Hardly ever."

"In that case, I'm honored by this gift of trust."

Oh, she definitely seemed amused by that. "So glad," she drawled.

Loki frowned at her. "Have I insulted you in some way by that remark, Lady Natasha?"

That wiped most of the amusement away. "No. It's not you, Loki." Norns, her voice had an almost sultry cast to it, and he could feel his heart beat faster in his chest. What would she feel like, if she consented to such a thing?

"I don't understand, then."

"That's all right. You don't have to."

"I'd like to."

She gave him an odd look. "Loki..."

"Lady Natasha," he began earnestly.

"I'm not nobility by any stretch of the imagination."

Nonplused, Loki paused. He remembered her remarks about autonomy, so he looked at her directly and asked "By what name should I call you, then?"

Natasha paused, as if seriously considering the question. "Natasha," she said solemnly.

Loki nodded gravely. "And I am Loki of Asgard." He offered her a crooked, charming smile that she actually returned after a moment.

"Good to know. Tomorrow, we'll dye your hair and get you a change of clothes. Then we'll go on a tour of Manhattan."

***

As much as Loki could have used glamours to cover his appearance and clothing, Natasha nixed that idea vehemently. "You don't have as much magic as you used to," she reasoned. "I have no idea how much energy it would take to maintain a glamour long term, or how much of your concentration you need to maintain it." She didn't even allow him to protest or explain that he could indeed maintain it as long as he needed to. Glamours were more complicated than baby magic, yes, but it was hardly difficult. Still, it was flattering that she cared about his wellbeing and didn't want him overtired and unable to enjoy his excursions throughout the city he now lived in. Not to mention, she planned to work his transformation herself.

Natasha dyed Loki's hair a dark blond and trimmed it shorter, which allowed it to curl around his face and make him appear younger. "Much better," she commented, a pleased note to her voice. He had merely blinked at her, as well as the choice of dress she displayed to him. It made sense that she would be an arbiter of what looked good on a mortal man. Was it too much to hope that perhaps she styled him in a fashion that _she_ found pleasing?

She seemed to be surprised by how much he enjoyed visiting the museums. There were lots of little ones scattered all throughout the city, and Loki was particularly ecstatic about visiting Museum Row. Natasha was fairly well versed in art theory, and the two managed to have lively conversations regarding the art they had seen over luncheon. Most afternoons, she accompanied him to parks or the borough Botanical Gardens if he didn't wish to study something with Tony and Bruce. She hadn't agreed to his request to spar or work on his sword skill, though Loki thought that the good Captain seemed to be interested in such an endeavor. Clint Barton studiously avoided him at all costs, so Loki didn't know how he could make up whatever wrong he had done.

As weeks passed and the weather cooled, Loki remained as drawn as ever to Natasha. She didn't discourage occasional physical contact anymore, and even revealed that Clint was leery of his presence because he had been ensorcelled and forced to murder comrades. Though it had been against his will, he still felt his guilt keenly.

Loki frowned at Natasha. He trusted the tale, but the content was disturbing. "That is very strong _seidr,"_ he told her. "Most practitioners may ply their illusions, cast doubt upon the mind, confuse facts, that sort of mischief. But to completely cloud a mind and change a personality takes considerable skill and effort. It's a rare thing to find someone capable of that, unless there is a group of likeminded practitioners that pooled their energies."

"It was a single person with an artifact of power."

Nodding slowly, Loki sighed. "That could do it." He let his fingers trail along his napkin and kept his eyes on his plate. "I will never be able to ease his mind regarding my purpose here, will I? My presence here agitates him, makes him forget his peace."

"Probably." Natasha shrugged. She sipped her tea and looked at him carefully, making him feel awkward. "Why does it bother you so much?"

Because Clint mattered to her, and he still had this boyish crush on her. If he could get Barton to like him, perhaps Natasha would soften her heart toward him.

Loki merely sighed. "I should atone for my sins, whatever they were."

"It's important to you," Natasha murmured, leaning in a bit closer.

"It's... It sounds silly. But if I could strike a balance somehow, or show that I didn't mean harm, perhaps I can be forgiven. Perhaps I could wipe the slate clean and start over." He gave her a weak smile, certain he sounded quite foolish.

"Do you believe that?"

"I have to try."

He didn't understand the expression on her face, but she allowed his touch when he reached out to grasp her hand. His fingers brushed across the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, and it surely couldn't be his imagination when her lips parted and pupils dilated. She wanted to keep things professional, but was not unaffected by his attentions. Loki didn't press further, not wanting to disturb this fragile attachment. It mattered what she thought, what she felt; it was always easier to charm someone he didn't care for in the slightest. Natasha was special, and he was drawn to her, and he wanted to keep her esteem.

"I believe in ledgers," Natasha said softly. She turned her hand around so that his fingers slid along hers. It was almost like a lover's caress, and there was that look in her eyes that he couldn't quite name. Desire was a part of that expression.

Something felt familiar in that. They must have talked about that before, in one of their hypothetical ethical dilemma conversations. 

"I hope someday our accounts can be brought to balance."

Her gaze held his for a long time, and for the first time, he didn't feel wanting.

***

Given Loki's current infatuation with Natasha, he had taken to observing her whenever possible. She moved with fluid grace, oftentimes with spare, efficient movements. There were few unnecessary gestures. Her smiles were more often gentle quirks and twitches of her lips, though her friends could get her grinning at something silly. Steve had deemed her a prankster and Tony had called her a troll, which Loki vehemently denied; trolls were large, monstrous creatures with gray or brown skin resembling stone, had dull wit and tended to eat the livestock of Vanaheim whole, without even the need for chewing. The assemblage paused to stare at him, making him aware that there was a translational error of some kind.

"Not a real troll, Horns," Tony had said finally. Frigga must have explained his full regalia prior to his arrival on Midgard for Tony to know his helm had large curved horns on it. "It's what they call losers on the internet without a sense of humor."

At Natasha's eye roll, Loki thought that he was misstating the case. When he frowned, Steve sighed and mockingly glared at Tony. "Don't be a dick any more than you can help, Tony," he told the man. Steve turned toward Loki with a half-smile. "I had to learn that the hard way, too. There's an urban dictionary online that defines all the slang. Really useful, especially when the same word means a few different things. Ask Jarvis to help you with that one."

"So the meaning that you meant was...?" Loki prompted.

"Someone that tries to get others upset for their own pleasure," Natasha supplied with that quirky smile Loki was starting to love.

 _Love._ Norns, he barely knew her. But then, Asgardian unions in royal or jarl houses did not depend on love on in the slightest. Men frequently kept mistresses for their emotional needs, though his own parents were a love match.

"Her sense of humor is warped. We all blame Clint for that one," Steve began. Then he seemed to remember that Clint wanted nothing to do with Loki, and looked uncomfortable.

"Perhaps Tony merely doesn't understand it. Such rapier wit may be beyond his ken."

Everyone blinked, and Natasha was the first to laugh. "Oh my god, Loki is a fucking troll, too!" Tony accused, pointing at him with his glass of bourbon. "I should've known."

"Takes one to know one," Bruce replied mildly from his corner of the common room.

There was an easy camaraderie between them all that Loki envied. They knew each other well, fought together, spent free time together. It was rather like Sif, Thor and the Warriors Three; Loki knew better than to count himself among their number, as they denigrated his efforts more often than praised them.

Alone in his quarters that evening, Loki pondered his situation. He was lonely for companionship on a physical level; he had conversational companionship, and thought perhaps that most of the others were moving past whatever initial misgivings they may have had about him. On Asgard, if Loki were to imagine a woman with him in bed, the bodies invariably were all the same, and that of the women of the flesh houses. But here on Midgard, he could plainly see the shape of female bodies. There weren't swaths of fabric to hide the sweep and curve of feminine features, yet they were still seen as proper and modest. Tony had indeed shown him pornography, where there was nothing at all shielding flesh from view. Some of those videos and images had been truly salacious and improper enough to make him uncomfortable.

Yet he hungered for that kind of touch. He couldn't even recall the last time he had graced a woman's bed, though he often lied about it when Fandral was boasting of some conquest or other with the lusty widows of the realm.

He felt dirty for thinking of Natasha in such a way when she wanted to strike a more professional note with him. Yet, she had covetous glances of her own. She hadn't been unaffected by his touch, and seemed entirely too interested in his pursuit of various arts and opportunities for learning. "Handling" him wouldn't necessarily mean spending so much time by his side. From what he had since gathered, handling in SHIELD usually meant go between. They made arrangements for jobs and tried to meet needs for agents. It didn't mean spending free time with them and discussing art theory, politics or history.

Jarvis was everywhere in the tower, and he wouldn’t put it past Tony to have visual records made of all events. He assumed the bathroom was safe from such intrusion, and retreated there to take a hot shower. This was sad and lonely and dirty, but he couldn't help himself. Leaning one arm against the tile, Loki closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his arm. With his other hand he grasped his cock and began to stroke. But he imagined Natasha's smooth skin and the way her clothes sometimes hugged her body tightly, a lover's caress he wished to give her. He imagined her nipples would be a dusky rose, and the hair between her legs would be as red as her hair on her head. He closed his eyes and imagined touching her there, and having her slim fingers close around him. Teasing her would be a joy, and she would reciprocate in kind before he tilted her down to the bed and buried himself to the hilt inside her. She would be lovely, warm and wet.

He spilled over his fist with a groan and sigh, hot water washing everything away and muffling the sounds of his release. Loki didn't open his eyes right away, shuddering a little. It was sad that he was reduced to this, but he couldn't help himself, either.

Following the shower, he wrapped himself in a fluffy robe and padded into the bedroom of his suite. It contained a working fireplace, which possibly was Frigga's suggestion. The entire tower had central heating and air conditioning, but she knew he would want to have some features more similar to Asgard. Not to mention, some workings required flame and ash.

Though he appeared calm, Loki was trembling internally. He felt out of sorts, and not just because he masturbated to fantasies of Natasha. Something was wrong with him. Something was wrong with the entire situation, though he couldn't imagine what it was.

Dragging his fingers through the ashes in the fireplace, Loki sketched a few runes. Nothing happened; his ability to manipulate _galdr_ had been taken from him. Cutting his palm with one of his knives, Loki let his blood drop onto the runes. This was quite a bit more than baby magic, but the strength of the simple protection spell was greatly weakened. He couldn't pull the shadows around him like a cloak. So many things he had learned over the decades, whatever he used to boast of, taken from him.

Odin could be so very cruel when he chose to be.

Loki remained kneeling in front of the grate, staring at his blood congealing on the cold ashes. It should have been stronger, able to sink into his skin and function like invisible armor. He felt a vague itch along his torso, as if something coated it, but he knew it was not as impermeable as it used to be. He wanted to scream in frustration or break something, but did no more than wring the robe between his fists.

Natasha soon came in, concern etched on her features. "Jarvis reported a wound," she began, looking around the suite. "Where are you hurt?"

"I was trying to do a working," Loki choked, rising to his feet. The robe was loose, but he didn't think of that until he saw Natasha's gaze slide appreciatively over the bare expanse of his chest and legs. His groin was barely concealed.

"So magic really does get done skyclad?"

"Some spells require that," he murmured, feeling hollow. "Most do not."

Natasha stepped closer and pulled at the loosened tie around his waist. She didn't break eye contact as she pulled his robe together and retied it for him. "I take it this didn't go well?" she asked softly, infinitely gentle and understanding.

"No," he whispered, a broken, raw sound. He could simply lean down and kiss her, sweep his tongue across her lips. Once he got her naked, he could trace the curve of her throat and lick her nipples, getting her ready enough for bedding.

He could, but Natasha would not like him doing such a thing without her consent.

Loki trailed his fingers along the curve of her jaw with one hand and touched her lower lip with his other hand. "What am I if I do not have this?" he murmured. "What is a trickster left without his tricks? What is a _seidmadr_ without his _seidr?"_

"There's more to you than that," Natasha replied. She was infinitely gentle when her hand moved to rest on his bare chest. It wasn't sexual, and despite his earlier fantasy, he didn't misinterpret it that way. "There has to be more than a bag of parlor tricks to who you are."

"Nothing else of value." Oh, there was bitterness in his voice, and pain burned deep within his chest. "Other skills I may possess were not valued."

"Here, they can be." Her fingers moved against his chest, sending a shiver through him. He wanted more of her, more contact, his flesh pressed into hers, his mouth against hers, his tongue tasting her from the inside out.

"Here, I am still nothing, hidden away from the world."

She didn't disagree with that assessment. "Sometimes that's necessary."

"Because of whatever I've done," Loki guessed. "My transgressions were not just on Asgard."

Her fingers skimmed lightly over his chest when she withdrew her hand, and Loki felt the loss keenly. He could ask her to stay, to still touch him, to do _something._ But that was desperation, that was inviting _ergi_ to stay. To sit inside his marrow and corrupt him, keep him from having anything at all.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing the shift in his expression.

Normally he would crave such attention. He wouldn't feel lost or unworthy then. But attention from her was a painful thing, a reminder of what he could not have, of what she had to be for him. He desired her, perhaps she desired him in return. It didn't make him worthy, didn't make up for whatever he had done. She eventually left, and he laid across his empty bed. Someday, he hoped to earn her affections. Someday he could deserve them.

Today was not that day.

***

Loki was walking through the halls of the common areas when he heard feminine laughter in one of the dining areas. He moved slowly, and discarded the thought to cloak himself in invisibility. If Natasha was with Clint, the archer wouldn't appreciate such displays of magic. He might take it badly enough to anger Natasha, which Loki didn't want to risk.

Sif and Natasha sat at a table, shot glasses and a half full bottle of vodka in front of them. At the sight of their easy discourse, jealousy stabbed through him, sharp and ugly. In Asgard, Sif broke with convention all the time, but wasn't reviled for it. Society matrons found her behavior and dress atrocious, but her fellow warriors respected her grit. Though it could have applied to her as well, Sif was never accused of _ergi_ for her unwillingness to follow convention. Thor and the Warriors Three enjoyed her company and valued her opinion.

So very unlike him. Oh, yes, he was fiercely jealous.

"I didn't think there could be change," Sif was saying ruefully. "I protested, though I obey the orders of my King and Queen."

"Oh, yeah, I know what you mean," Natasha replied, pouring out another shot. There was a beautiful flush in her cheeks, the alcohol making her tipsy and lowering her inhibitions. She was stunning, even in the casual dress she preferred. "Is it an act? Or does he really remember none of it? And what about the dead? Where's justice for them?"

"It is surprising you care of such things." Sif watched as Natasha knocked back the vodka in a single gulp, then savor it in her mouth before swallowing. "I would have thought you were only interested in your comrades' safety."

"That too," Natasha agreed. Her behavior was loose and fluid, relaxed. "I once was a mercenary, working for whoever would pay for my skills." Sif appeared startled, and Loki wondered what kind of friendship the two had. "I atone for that now, the lives taken, the damage that I've done without knowing who I was hurting. That's my idea, no one else's. It's something I need to do, even if most people can't understand why."

"It's something I don't see him trying to do."

"You missed it, then. Because we've talked about just that, and he _is_ interested in restoring his balance, even though he doesn't remember the damage done."

Sif snorted. "I find that hard to believe."

"He's different. Whatever happened changed him, hurt him so badly it warped who he was and what he believed in." Sif snorted again, making Natasha frown deeply at her. "People are capable of change, Sif. For good or ill, we're the sum of our choices and our memories. Take a good number of them away, you change who someone is."

Loki's breath caught. Had he been so grossly cruel, then? The gap in his memory, the side effect of the binding, had changed him. Sif didn't believe he had changed, that the spells were doing him any good. Loki didn't want to hurt her or anyone else, wanted to atone for his crimes just like Natasha did. Didn't that count for something? Didn't he get a chance to earn everyone's trust and respect?

"He is a trickster," Sif declared. "He took many opportunities to twist and corrupt truth, befouled the throne and sowed discord among our leadership."

"People don't wake up one day and decide 'Fuck it, I'm going to screw over everyone' and off they go," Natasha protested. "There's a trigger to tip someone over, and signs of something going wrong before it all goes to hell. And it goes the other way, too. We have to believe that people are capable of change, that they can do good if they choose to."

Sif shook her head as Natasha spoke. "It's all well and good in theory, but he cannot change. And I do not believe your compatriots believe in that either."

Natasha sighed, and Loki held his breath to hear her quiet answer. "Clint won't be able to forgive what happened, no. He won't admit it, but he has nightmares and he blames himself for what was outside of his control. Tony Stark always thought he was a grandstanding narcissist and was willing to reserve judgment until he could see what the spells did. Stark has a destructive impulse, though," Natasha added with a half-smile, "so he may simply have been trying to see how close he could get without getting killed."

Sif snorted and shook her head. "Many warriors seek to court death as a way to prove they're alive and infallible."

"He's definitely that type."

"And the others?"

"Bruce believes in second chances, and figured that Loki would be best contained here with us than anywhere else in the world. Steve hates bullies, full stop. At first he agreed with Clint and wanted nothing to do with any of this. Too many good people died." Natasha ran her finger around the edge of the shot glass. "But Frigga said he would be different, there wouldn't be any repeat of that, as if time had simply been rewound. So he decided to wait and see."

"What about you?"

"I know it's possible to get a second chance at things, to make different decisions along the way and do it all right. It can be done if you want it enough. But that being said, sometimes there's no going back. There's no undoing the damage done, no matter how hard you wish it was so. If that happens, there's nothing left but to finish it before it can get any worse." Natasha poured them both more vodka. Loki watched as she savored the taste of it, drinking slowly.

"So that's why you're in charge. Because you can be objective and put a stop to it if you must."

"As Director Fury likes to say, I'm comfortable with everything." She gave Sif a humorless smile then finished her shot. "I do whatever needs to be done, no matter the cost."

"Even at harm to yourself?" Sif asked in concern.

"Even then. Especially then."

Now Sif looked incredibly sad. "Oh, Natasha..."

"I have debts to pay, Sif, my own things to atone for. I always repay my debts."

"You and your comrades are friends to Asgard, and we do not consider this a debt."

"I know." But it was clear that _she_ did.

"For all that was said and done on this realm, your organization didn't have to agree. Even with the bindings in place, his magicks are strong and his clever, wily tongue remains."

"It was a half assed plan, probably made out of desperation," Natasha murmured. "Makes me wonder who the scarier asshole was."

Sif choked a little on her drink. "We had not thought of it in those terms."

"I have." Natasha ran her finger around the rim of her shot glass, a pensive expression on her face. "Because let's face it, a narcissist will have the grandiose appearance to cover up for feeling empty inside. Everything is everyone else's fault, especially for not containing him enough or loving him enough or whatever. But while they will wind up sabotaging relationships, it's not usually something that leads to mass murder. So who out there is even worse?"

"I don't know," Sif replied, disturbed by the concept. "Asgard is a shining realm, bringing peace to other realms. We recently came back from defending Vanaheim from intruders."

"Who were they?"

Snorting, Sif downed her shot at once. "No one of import. They surrendered when Thor felled their champion with a single blow from Mjolnir."

"We-ell," Natasha began, drawling out the word. She appeared to be growing intoxicated, which Loki found fascinating. She so rarely seemed out of control, and getting drunk was possibly a luxury she did not give in to often. "I can see why that would scare them. It's an impressive visual you paint there."

"Because of Thor's physicality?" Sif asked, lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Eh, that helps. Nice to look at and a wonderful friend," Natasha commented with a grin. Sif laughed out loud and Natasha joined in. "Not my type, though. Too... _good."_

Sif snorted. "You do yourself a disservice, Natasha. During our talks over the past several of your months, you have become a very dear friend. You are not as shameful or wicked as you seem to see yourself."

"Of course you'd say that. You're a friend."

Shaking her head, Sif took the bottle away when Natasha reached for it. "I see we are approaching the maudlin portion of the evening. No further spirits, unfortunately."

"Ah, you're no fun," Natasha teased, wagging her fingers playfully at Sif. It was definitely not a side of her that Loki had seen before. It seemed to be a good enough time to retreat, but the movement finally caught Natasha's attention. She turned quickly, and saw Loki in the doorway staring at them with wide eyes. "Oh. Loki."

Seeing him there, Sif narrowed her eyes slightly. "Loki."

"I was not aware you had come to Midgard to visit," he said, hoping they didn't realize how much of their conversation he had eavesdropped on. "Is my brother and the Warriors Three with you, then?"

"No," Sif told him stiffly. "They remain on Asgard."

"Is there trouble, then?" Loki asked, a concerned expression on his face. She shook her head and rose to her feet, the vodka bottle in hand. "Sif?" he asked, voice soft and heavily laced with confusion. It gave her pause. "Have I harmed you as well? I do not recall the Jotnar actually harming anyone in the palace."

She searched his expression for some sign of dissembling, which was not there. "No," she said finally. "I was not harmed. Just very disappointed."

"I'm sorry," Loki told her, remembering Natasha's words on how narcissists behaved. Was that how she saw him? Was that what he was? And what actually happened to make her believe an even worse party was driving his behavior?

He had to find out what happened during his missing time.

Pausing before leaving the room, Sif looked at him carefully. "Yes, I believe you are." She left without saying if she forgave him or not, which told him what her feelings were.

"Forgive me, Natasha," Loki murmured, approaching her at the table. "I did not mean to interrupt your talk. You have few enough visits with friends or time to yourself." He sat across from her, taking in the flush in her cheeks and the way her eyes fell across his body. He had dressed in Midgardian casual wear, rough denim fabric for the trousers and a soft cotton shirt that made him feel terribly underdressed. But she seemed to appreciate the look, perhaps because she could see the shape of his torso and limbs, whereas all the layers of Asgardian garb masked it.

Thor wasn't her type because he was too good. Was he her type because he wasn't?

"S'okay," she said, shrugging. "Sif's here for a few more days, she said. Checking things out."

"Making sure I do no dastardly deeds," Loki guessed. Natasha nodded confirmation. Should he feel comforted by the fact that he wasn't exactly alone in his exile? Sif came to see how he fared, even though she clearly didn't enjoy speaking with him. Thor and the Warriors Three hadn't arrived, but there were eight other realms to protect. Their turn would come, if Sif was here.

"You said I had not done terrible deeds to you, only improper speech."

"Yeah. Not exactly anything I would want to repeat to you or hear again."

"I'm sorry," he told her, meaning it. "I know I've said horrible things in the past to people. Threats of violence or rape are usually very effective against enemies, and are often used to prove a warrior's masculinity. I never acted on them, though."

"Bad enough you make the threats in the first place."

"It's what was done," Loki explained. "And I would never harm you."

"Is that so?" she asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I care what you think of me," Loki admitted, not sure why he was telling her this. Perhaps because she looked so much more... human. Almost vulnerable, and not the agent that knew everything and smirked at others for not being as smart or capable. Perhaps because she was giving him a second chance, and he didn't want to waste it.

Perhaps because he loved her.

Loki impulsively reached across the table and caught her hand in his. She seemed startled, which told him out of sorts she was. "You should rest, Natasha. You're tired and drunk."

She gave him a wide, delighted grin. "Unfortunately, no, I'm not. It takes at least an entire bottle to get me drunk. You do care about me, don't you?"

Shifting to get halfway up and out of his seat, Loki moved to kiss the back of her hand. His lips lingered over her skin for a moment, and he looked up in time to see her lick her lips seductively. His heart stuttered, and he let out a sighing breath. "Natasha..."

"Come with me to my suite," she decided. It startled Loki, who merely gaped at her. "I'm not that drunk. And I know you want me."

"You said it was a bad idea."

"I know. But it's late, and Jarvis won't tell."

Almost afraid of her change of heart, Loki paused. "Why change your mind now?"

Something shifted in her gaze, giving her a hungry look. "Maybe I want something for me for a change. Maybe talking with Sif made me realize we're not too different in some ways." She rose to her feet, still fluidly graceful, and pulled him down for a filthy kiss. "And maybe, it's the alcohol making me horny, and I don't want to go it alone."

"I don't want you to regret this tomorrow," Loki murmured against her mouth. If she did... Oh, that would be terrible. He couldn't face the idea of continuing his punishment on Midgard without being able to see her or speak with her. He would gladly stick with masturbating to the thought of her if it would maintain her presence in his life.

She flashed him a brilliant, beautiful smile. "You can be charming when you want to be, Loki. I know there's more to you. I want to see it for myself."

Something in him was thrilled at the words. A soft shiver ran through him, and he returned the smile she gave him. "I may have had thoughts about you. In this manner."

"Oh. Good. Because I definitely thought about you."

He kissed her again, longing and need present in it as his tongue slid into her mouth. His hands skimmed along her torso, reveling in the feel of her, and Natasha responded in kind by palming his erection. Loki thought he could come right there, embarrassingly quickly, and anyone could walk in. Not to mention Natasha was intoxicated. It might not have been a lot by her standards, but he didn't want their first coupling to be tainted by doubts about her interest in the endeavor. If it happened, he wanted her full enthusiastic consent.

As much as it pained him to do so, Loki pulled back from the kiss and disentangled himself from her arms. "If this is truly what you wish, I will gladly lie with you," he murmured regretfully. He backed away a few steps, not trusting his resolve should she touch him with amorous intent. "When you are not intoxicated, I hope you find me."

Before she could reply, he fled.

***  
***


	3. Physical Experimentation

Natasha found Loki the next afternoon in the study. He was working on a new interface design for Stark Industries; Tony had gotten so frustrated with it that he all but shoved the plans at Loki and declared he needed time in his workshop to clear his head. Bruce had been amused, and went back to his work regarding new polymers that would allow a Starkpad to be more resilient under various stresses. "So," she began, smirking when she obviously startled him out of his intense concentration. "We're both sober."

He managed not to gulp at the sound of her voice. "Yes, we are."

"Last night was out of the ordinary," she continued.

"It was," he agreed. "You expressed interest in me. That is not something you do."

"You backed off. You didn't press the advantage."

Frowning at her flat tone, Loki put aside the notes her was making. "It would be a disservice to you, even if you were mostly in control of your actions. I..." Loki's voice trailed off, as he was a bit unnerved by her intense stare. "It's not sporting. And should I bed you, I would have you aware and desiring such a thing as much as I."

Natasha strode into the room, a seductive sway to her hips. She extended a hand and only smiled when Loki took it. "And if I told you that I've thought about it? Wondered what it would be like, all the different ways it could happen..."

He grinned and tightened his hand around hers. "I would be most pleased indeed."

This time, Loki was more than happy to accompany her to her suite. Once inside, Natasha locked the doors and requested that Jarvis apply her blackout security protocol. At the confirming chirp, she approached Loki and pulled him down for a kiss.

Loki skimmed his hands along the sides of her torso, glorying in the feel of her. Somehow this felt like a triumphant occasion, something he should celebrate. Natasha was hard won, but that meant he was all the more worthy of her affections should she choose to give them. His kiss was soft and gentle, but she opened her mouth beneath his and tangled her hands in his hair. Her touch was electrifying, sending little tendrils of shock through him. He had always enjoyed the sensation of things, of _feeling_ and _experiencing,_ but it seemed as though he had never felt anything so perfect before. Loki was already half hard and panting for her, eager to sink into her waiting flesh.

He palmed her breasts, perfect for his hands, and moved to pull at her shirt. "What's your hurry?" she purred, running her nails lightly along his scalp. He nearly shuddered in ecstasy at that, and lifted her in his arms to crush his mouth to hers. Natasha smiled against his mouth, pleased and amused and aroused at once.

"I'd have you beneath me, panting as I enter you," Loki gasped, mouthing her jaw. By the Tree, he was nearly shaking like a callow youth on his first visit to the flesh houses.

"But there are so many more interesting things to do," she said, bringing her nails down along the nape of his neck. At his sharp intake of breath, Natasha laughed a little. "You've done this before, of course."

Part of him quailed that he wasn't her first, that she would find him wanting in some way. It was the opposite of expectations on Asgard; there, whatever woman he bedded was expected to lie there and please him, whether it was to rut like an animal or be tender as a lover. Loki knew that expectations were different here, having seen the mass media available for consumption. The porn that Tony had threatened to show him was available in various formats and interests, a dizzying fact he didn't know what to do with.

"I have indeed," Loki replied, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with discussing this so brazenly.

"You on top?" He nodded, not sure where she was going with this. "Not girl on top?" He shook his head. "From behind?" Again in the negative. "Oral?" Again. "Anal?"

Loki looked at her, horrified. "That is unclean!"

"And with that kind of reaction, I'm guessing there are no sex toys on Asgard?" He gave her a blank look, and Natasha only smiled. It wasn't sinister, exactly, but as though she had found a particularly interesting challenge. "How brave are you feeling, then?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously, wondering how they had wandered so far afield of his bedding her. "What are you thinking of?"

"Sex. Lots of it, and in lots of different ways," she replied baldly.

He gaped at her. "Different ways," he echoed, trying to figure out what she meant by that.

Her grin was delighted, and she leaned in for another kiss. "It's going to be good, Loki. I promise. It's going to feel so fucking wonderful for both of us."

Well, now. That was something he understood very well.

"But I'll go easy on you for right now," she said with that seductive smile. She kissed him again, a clash of lips and tongue and teeth. Norns, he hadn't thought this could be real. Loki wound his fingers through her hair, lengthening her kiss as he cupped his hands around her ass. He lifted her a little, and Natasha wrapped her arms around him.

It short work to get rid of their clothes. Loki laid her onto her bed and hovered over her, kissing her intently. All of his weight was propped up on one forearm. His other hand first caressed a breast, thumbing the nipple. Natasha's mouth opened beneath his, one hand running around his torso, caressing his skin. With her other, she caressed his arm and shoulder. It was wonderful, feeling her touch him enthusiastically. Hearing her fractured breath, Loki moved his hand down her body. She was damp to the touch, so he wet his fingers in it and started to stroke her clit. "Mmm. Perfect," she murmured against his mouth, lips pulling into a smile.

"Good," he replied. A final swirl across her clit, then Loki was guiding his cock into her. It was perfect, her sheath tight and hot and wet. The sweet glide of his cock inside her was intense, almost too much. It had been far too long, and he had wanted this too much. Loki tried to grit his teeth and think of fighting. But that made him recall Sif, then how Natasha looked with that flush in her cheeks and the loose, amused smile on her lips.

Loki came with a grunt, then pushed himself up onto his elbows long enough to withdraw from her body. She made a surprised sound, which turned into a startled one when he curled up onto his side next to her. "Is something wrong?"

"Is that it?" she asked, disappointed.

Frowning, Loki sat up. "Were you expecting something else? I gathered you were familiar with how the bedding would be," he said stiffly.

Natasha sighed. "Let me guess... A woman's orgasm isn't important?"

He could tell by her tone that he shouldn't stare blankly or say "No, it isn't," even though it wasn't a priority for most men on Asgard to see to their women's pleasure. "I'm sorry," he murmured, rubbing her arm gently. He let his fingers trail down to caress the slope of her breast. "It's been a very long time for me."

"Well, I'll just take care of it myself."

He didn't want to ask what she meant and look stupid. Besides, her intent was clear enough after a moment anyway. She dipped one hand between her legs, slicking her fingers in her own wetness and his spent seed, then swirled them up around her clit. Eyes intent on his face, Natasha stroked herself with a deft, knowing touch. She had done this often, then. The thought didn't bother him, surprisingly enough. Had she had to masturbate to thoughts of him? It was a very flattering thought.

So Loki watched as her breath quickened, lips parted and a delightful flush spread across her features. She was quiet, soft moans and gasps her only sounds. A few more strokes, and her body tightened. Loki stroked her breast, thumb on her nipple, and apparently it was just enough to send her over the edge. Natasha threw her head back as she moaned. Gradually, her body relaxed, and she stretched out languidly beside him. "Next time, you'll have to do better."

"Do better?" he huffed, affronted. Then her words actually registered, and he understood her meaning. It wasn't an insult. Next time? Loki gave her a goofy grin and ran his fingers down her torso before palming her breasts. "I like this plan," he said.

"I thought you might," Natasha replied with a laugh.

***

To make up for her dissatisfaction, the next time Loki came to Natasha's bed, he promised to do more than leave her unsatisfied. He offered to prove he had staying power, but Natasha waved him off with a sultry grin. "I have a better idea. If you trust me."

"Of course I do," he replied.

She quickly removed her clothing, setting his mouth to watering with desire. She took more time removing his clothing, brushing her lips or breasts against his skin as it was exposed. When she knelt to drag down his trousers, Loki gasped when she took him into her mouth. His hands twitched down to touch her hair, though he was careful not to crash her face into his flesh. He groaned in disappointment when she pulled back and sat on her haunches. "Lie back on the bed," she said, voice thick with desire. "Don't touch, just let me do this for you."

He lay back, feet still on the floor, and Natasha pushed his knees apart. She took his cock into her mouth again, long enough to make him groan and then pull at her sheets. Everything in her suite was white or blonde woods, giving it a clean, spare look. It would be bright and airy when the sun came up, light filtering through the sheer white drapes. Loki focused on all this to keep from coming in her mouth right away. "Close," he gasped, thinking she would want warning to pull away. His hips bucked at the feel of her tongue and soft palate on his cock.

Just before he would have spilled into her mouth, Natasha pulled away, making him groan in disappointment. "Can't have the party end too soon," she teased.

Loki whimpered when she licked and sucked on his balls, her nails lightly scratching along his inner thighs. They trembled on either side of her head, and he pulled at her sheets to keep from writhing. "Natasha," he moaned, then gasped in shock when her tongue dipped down to trace his anus. "You can't," he gasped, even as pleasure rushed through him.

"You said you trusted me. Isn't that good?" she asked in a sultry tone, sounding pleased with herself for making him cry out. Without waiting for his answer, she bent her head down and licked at his hole again, even bringing the tip of her tongue just inside the opening. He bucked his hips against her mouth and pulled at her bed sheet so hard it tore.

She seemed to enjoy tormenting him this way, nipping and licking at everything before taking his cock into her mouth again. Loki cried out desperately, a high whining sound that would have shamed him if not in Natasha's bedroom. He tried to warn her when he was about to come, but if anything, she sucked harder. He came with a hoarse cry, again tearing her sheet when he yanked hard on it.

Natasha rode out his aftershocks, then climbed up to the bed beside him with a pleased grin on her face. Dear Roots, he could smell her arousal. She truly had enjoyed that. It hadn't been mere affectation. "How fast can you be ready again?"

"Soon," he replied, reaching for her.

Laughing delightedly, she straddled his waist. "How would you feel about returning the favor until then? Or do Asgardians not do oral sex?"

It felt extremely awkward to discuss past conquests while in Natasha's bed, but there was no censure in her tone, merely curiosity. "Ah... It is unclean," he replied simply. He reached between their bodies and found her coarse curls and folds damp. She shimmied a little above him, making it easier to feel where everything was, and the anatomy seemed to be the same as Asgardian women. "I've prepared women before. With hands."

"But never brought one all the way?" He shook his head. "Care to try?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"For you, I would," he murmured, rising to the challenge she set.

Loki had long, slim fingers, and he certainly knew how to use them. He traced her flesh with one hand and pulled her closer with his other one. Closing his lips around her nipple, he licked and sucked at her as he slid two fingers inside of her. Natasha made a contented humming sound, propping herself up over him on her forearms. That let Loki bring his other hand around to cup her ass as he pumped his fingers rhythmically. "Mmm," she hummed, arching a bit. He smiled around her breast, then grasped her torso with his arm. Loki pulled her down as he rolled over, covering her body with his.

Of course Natasha wouldn't be submissive in this either. She shimmied out from beneath him to be at the center of her bed. "Why don't you try licking me?" she asked, desire in her eyes. She spread her legs for him and propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with a smile on her face. "I happen to like that a lot."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of wrongness at the thought of putting his mouth to her, but slid his fingers inside of her. When she let out a pleased groan, Loki bent his head down and gave her flesh an experimental lick. Now came a pleased sigh, a sound that went straight to his groin. All right. He could do this.

Spreading her wide with his fingers, Loki licked and sucked at her, paying attention to the spots that made her moan and jerk, pushing toward his mouth. Natasha certainly wasn't shy about telling him what felt good, either, and that helped guide his movements. Listening to her moan was wonderful, and he found he actually liked doing this. She cried out and grabbed his head, fingers tangling in his blond curls. "There," she gasped, hips bucking toward his mouth. "Close, harder, Loki, please..." He had to hold her still to delve into her, licking as far as he could, tasting her and inhaling her musky scent. Finally her entire body grew taut, and sucking on her clit led her to nearly scream when she came.

Kneeling on the bed between her spread legs, Loki drew his hands along her stomach until he cupped her breasts in his hands. He was half hard again, his cock bobbing and pressing against the juncture of her thighs without pushing into her. "Natasha," he murmured softly.

"You want to be on top, then?" she asked with a lazy, amused smile.

Given some of these other things she had suggested had been exceedingly pleasurable, he was willing to defer to her again. "Unless you'd prefer a different way?"

Natasha laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. He was startled that she didn't care about the taste of her on his tongue, and that he didn't feel disgusted knowing where her mouth had been on his body. She pushed him over so that she was on top, straddling his waist. "Let's try this way, hm? Next time we'll go for something different."

Oh, good. She wasn't displeased. Going beyond his comfort level reaped such reward, then. "I think I would enjoy that."

"So would I," she purred, grasping his cock and guiding him into her. She rode him hard and fast, gasping and moaning, having him pinch her nipples as she scratched lightly at his thighs. Even after he came, she kept going until she came as well, though he had to assist her by rubbing at her clit with his fingers. She draped herself over him afterward, tucking her head in the crook of his neck as she panted for breath. He laughed a little at her contented noises, and held her close as his own breathing evened out.

"Good, huh?" she asked, sounding quite pleased with herself

"Oh, yes. I'm very interested in what else you can come up with."

"I can be _very_ creative, Loki. Just you wait and see."

***

Creative seemed to be an understatement. He held Natasha pinned to the wall of her shower and fucked her fast and deep, hot water sluicing all around them. After he came, she slid down and worked at his cock with a soapy hand while she kissed him senseless. Once he was hard enough, she bent down so he could take her from behind, his hands grasping her hips tight as he slammed into her. On a separate occasion, she had him licking up into her as she sucked on his cock. Or she tied his wrists to the headboard and straddled his face, her fingers tangled in his curly hair to be sure he stayed licking at the sweet spot. Natasha knelt on hands and knees on her bed while fucked her from behind, listening to her moans until he shouted as he came. She even had him liberally coat his fingers with lube to work open her ass until he could fuck her there. It was an amazing sensation, tight and frenetic; even more amazing was that Natasha enjoyed that as well, panting and begging for more. She didn't come until he reached around her hips to stroke her clit with slippery fingers, but her entire body tightened when she did so, squeezing his cock deliciously and having him come again.

She had toys and straps and various things for sensation play, which alternately scared and excited him. It bothered him that she'd had to learn these things to "facilitate data extraction," and that Natasha saw nothing wrong with using her body like a tool if necessary. There was no information to extract from him, no promises to force him to keep. She simply liked having him in her bed, suggesting more and more things for him to try. If Loki seemed disconcerted by a particular idea, Natasha suggested that he try it on her first as a demonstration. Her delighted gasps at wearing nipple clamps or having ice cubes pressed to her skin made him want to try them, a fairly clever way to ease him into it. Bondage or blindfolds were no trouble at all, and surprisingly enough he was fascinated with the idea of knife play. They didn't actually cut the skin, but a blunt edge felt sharp in the throes of passion, and was just enough additional sensation to trigger orgasm.

Weeks of this in addition to what she called "vanilla sex," and he was still uncomfortable with the idea of anything more than her tongue or one of her fingers pressing into his ass. Even that had been carefully negotiated and bargained for. She understood his reticence and fears of being unmanned by such an act, and never pushed too hard when he refused. "I think you'd like it," was all she would say, shrugging. "It might sound weird to you, but I think the sensation would be amazing. But we don't have to. There's plenty of other things for us to do."

Though there were no belittling comments made, Loki couldn't help but feel as though he was disappointing Natasha somehow. After a particularly eventful evening full of decadent food and expensive wine, Loki grasped Natasha about the waist as they strolled through Central Park on the way back to Avengers Tower. He swung her around and looped his arms around her, holding her tightly as he kissed her passionately. "How did this happen?" he murmured, before moving in to kiss her again, tongue sliding into her mouth. He rather liked this way of kissing, and it was obvious by the flush in her cheeks that she did, too.

"How did what happen?"

"How did you come to mean so much to me?" he murmured, sliding his hand into her hair, pulling her curls loose of their pins. "It's not just proximity... I..." For a moment, he couldn't say the words; it was too large and terrifying a feeling. But taking a deep breath, Loki pushed out the syllables anyway. "I love you."

Natasha cupped his face in her hands. "Oh, Loki," she said with a slight smile. Did it pain her to hear such a thing? He knew she thought herself unworthy because of her past, and that she had to continually strive to redeem herself.

"You don't have to say it back," he told her a little self-consciously.

"I can't love, not like that. Not like how you mean it. I'm incapable."

"Surely that's not possible..."

"I'm damaged in that way. Not that anyone can see it, but I don't respond to things like other people. I can't love."

Her superiors thought she was comfortable with everything. She could have easily been asked to slit his throat if he turned out to be as harmful as his forgotten past. She was skilled in far too many deadly means to get at marks.

"But you care for me? Surely you must, for the time we spend together is more than what was asked of you."

"I do." She cradled his face in her hands. "Dinner and afterward, all of it... That's special. That's yours alone. It's not for anyone's benefit but you."

An odd way to put it, but she was a spy. She spoke in ellipses and half-truths, walked in shadows and moved sparingly. "How did you get to be this way?"

"It's a long story," she replied without inflection. "Today isn't the day for it."

In her bedroom that night, Loki carefully undressed them both. "You trust me with your body, that I do no harm to you and yours."

Natasha nodded, sliding a hand along his collarbone. "That's true."

"Then I can trust you with my body," he began slowly, swallowing down a fit of nerves that threatened to choke him. "I can trust that you can do with me what you will, that I will not be tainted or unmanned."

"Loki," Natasha began, running her hands down his chest.

"I give you all of me," he said softly. "My heart, my body, my soul, whatever's left of my magic." He smiled gently, running his fingers along the curve of her cheek. "I do this of my own will, Natasha, not because you ask it of me." Curling his hand along the back of her neck, he bent down to kiss her tenderly. "So do with me what you will."

"Hey, if it's uncomfortable, we can stop this anytime, all right? I don't want to push you into anything that hurts." She snaked her hand around the back of his neck, mirroring his touch. "If it's not fun, we do something else. It's not like there aren't dozens of other ways we can play with each other, right?" she teased.

"Right," he agreed. He slid his hands down to cup her ass and lift her up for a deep kiss. "So play, before I lose my nerve."

Natasha laughed and moved to get him undressed. She stripped down to her lace panties and matching bra, then pushed him down to her bed with a sultry smile on her face. "I think it would be best if you let me take the lead on this, and that I don't tie you down. It'll give you some control, and easier to stop me if you have to."

His reply was swallowed up by the gasp of pleasure he made when she took his cock into her mouth. It was just to get him started, loosening up his body and helping to let go of his nerves a little. She moved to mouth his balls next, then started in on the rimming. He wasn't about to stop her; he enjoyed that immensely, and it wasn't something that triggered anxiety. Neither was the sound of the lubricant cap snapping open. It was cold when she moved her mouth and pressed her slicked finger against his anus. Loki focused on her mouth on his cock as she slid one finger in; this was as far as they had gotten before. This night, Natasha moved it back and forth, a slow thrusting motion. Then she crooked her finger, brushing against a spot that made him gasp with pleasure. "There," she murmured against his stomach. "That's what I was talking about."

Loki gasped and tried not to grab Natasha and pull her off of him. "Try it again."

Again she curled her finger to brush against his prostate, then slowly slid her finger in and out of him. When he seemed loose enough, she slid a second finger in. The two fingertips against his prostate made him groan and pull one of her pillows over his mouth to muffle his cries. He followed her direction when she suggested pulling his legs to his chest, holding onto the backs of his thighs. _Oh,_ but that hanged the angle of her movements, and it was now a more delicious sizzle along his nerves.

It didn't even matter when her fingers were replaced with a vibrating dildo. Loki cried out at the sensation, fingers biting into the backs of his thighs where he held them. When Natasha took his cock into her mouth again, he nearly sobbed at the intensity of the pleasure. He found himself babbling in Allspeak, promising her whatever she wanted as long as she could continue making him feel that way.

Natasha swallowed when he spilled into her mouth with a shout. She brought him down from the high, removed the dildo and curled up along his side after he lowered his legs. "I thought you might like that. Similar to human anatomy, after all."

Loki pulled her close, a delicious lassitude in his limbs and a stretched-out ache deep inside. "I see now why you kept insisting."

"Something you might want to try again?" she asked, a mischievous note to her voice.

"Perhaps," he replied, but there was a smile on his lips and a pleased expression on his face.

Laughing, Natasha kissed the side of his mouth and settled down to sleep.

***

Loki enjoyed walking through the Cloisters, an old cathedral that had been turned into a museum in upper Manhattan. He looked on in amusement at the cosplayers and LARPers running around; Natasha and Steve's friend Sam had enjoyed telling him about that, and brought him to a convention with them. Steve had been mobbed immediately, but the others had been able to enjoy the panels, masquerade and dealer's room. Loki had found it a strange but enjoyable outing, something else that Asgard had no equivalent to. He took to reading comic books as well as the classics at the New York Public Library. Jarvis could have easily found him copies online, but Loki wanted to get out more into the city and enjoyed the feel of actual books. Not to mention, once he was done with his morning reading, he could cross the street to get lunch at the Starbucks and then sit in Bryant Park for a time. If Natasha was required at SHIELD Headquarters or had Avenger duties, it was a very pleasant way to occupy himself. The press of humanity felt almost familiar and comforting that way.

"There were these girls at the park," Loki began over dinner one day. It was a group affair, rather than a quiet one with Natasha alone. Clint was there, though he was in the seat farthest from Loki and closest to the door, the easier to make his retreat. "They reminded me of the women on Asgard," he commented. He turned to Natasha with a smile. "I am very glad you don't resemble them in the slightest."

Everyone at the table grew very quiet, though Loki didn't recognize the eerie stillness for what it was. He thought it was the respectful silence of allowing another to speak.

"Oh?" Natasha asked, calmly taking a sip of her tea.

"The women on Asgard cared for nothing but fashion and hair styles. Quite inconsequential and boring. While I know they have no knowledge of political sciences or practical matters, it was still disappointing that arts or letters were not topics of conversation."

"Then what were they allowed to learn, if not how things worked?" Bruce asked, brows furrowed a bit in thought.

"Household matters," Loki replied promptly. "Occasionally jarls let their wives or daughters learn matters of import, but that was exceedingly rare. Which is why I am very glad you're not like them, Natasha."

"You did _not_ just give me the 'you're not like other girls' bullshit speech."

He looked at Natasha and the others blankly. Tony looked ready to laugh out loud, and the other men seemed to be discreetly edging away from Loki. Clint was calmly eating dinner with a grin on his face. "I don't understand... Why do you find this offensive?"

"Basically, you're saying women are only capable of understanding certain _girly_ topics that are not important, uninteresting and infantilizing. That they have to be controlled by men and can only learn things if _allowed_ to do so. Extrapolating from that, women can't protect themselves, are unintelligent and useless outside of the home. Possibly only the bedroom counts for anything. Is that right?"

Loki blinked. "That is their role on Asgard."

"Yet there's also Sif, who's a capable fighter and has been on the front lines for hundreds of years and has gained respect for that skill."

"And is _argr,"_ Loki added, frowning. "Some seem to celebrate that, but society sees it as unnatural. Hardly a ringing endorsement for the rest of Asgard."

"Women can do a lot of things that men can," Natasha began in an icy voice. Bruce actually left the table and started eating near the counters next to the door. "Sif and Frigga are the only two Asgardian women I know, but they make it clear that this is true even on Asgard, where they're _not allowed_ to reach their full potential, then this is held against them." Her eyes narrowed at Loki. "Women are held to an impossible standard, blamed for meeting this expectation as well as not meeting it. She has to be pretty but not too pretty, or else she's seen as vain and stupid. She can't be seen as smarter than a man, and can't be seen as capable of doing things in her own right. Yet she can't be completely helpless and seen as useless, either. She has to fall within a very strict boundary to be accepted, and is reviled when she isn't. Her only worth is through the men she attaches herself to. Is that right?"

"Well, yes. That is how it is on Asgard." Loki looked at her, confused and not seeing her point.

"And isn't that how magic is seen?" she said, her voice a low and dangerous sound. Loki froze, almost paralyzed with fear that she would actually reveal the kinds of sex acts that they had performed. Because if they were revealed, his own _ergi_ would be laid bare for the others to see. He would be shamed as less than a man, unworthy to be in their presence, Frigga's deal for them or not.

And even that was a count against him. _Frigga_ made the deal, not Odin.

"That is bullshit, Loki. And if you ever talk like that again, I'll show you just how useless women can be. Got it?" she said coldly.

In his stunned silence, Loki could only stare at her. Just that morning he had wrapped his arms around her and made love to her, tenderly kissing everything he could, taking pleasure in her pleasure. How could things be so different now?

Clint chuckled from his place at the table, putting down his knife and fork. "Aw, yeah, so glad I stayed to see _this."_

Loki turned and looked at him, startled, his shock clearly etched across his features. Why was Natasha so angry with him? Why was Clint amused at his confusion?

Natasha was pointing at him with her steak knife. "You're capable of more than that and you're able to think for yourself. So do us all a favor and _think_ about what you're saying. This isn't Asgard and even on Asgard that misogynistic viewpoint is bullshit."

"But I don't dislike women—" he protested.

"But you've issued rape threats before. Your culture sanctions gendered violence and belittling of women." When Loki couldn't disagree, Natasha put her knife down in disgust. "That's misogyny, Loki. Not necessarily just flat out hate. Belittling them, erasing their skill sets and infantilizing them are all little ways it comes out."

"And if they truly do behave in such a way? I never got a chance to tell you what occurred today, but the girl was behaving in an infantile manner. Do you mean to say that she cannot be called out on that?"

"If she was an idiot, you can say _she_ was an idiot, not all women. Not that she's like every other woman you have no interest in. You can't say that I'm not like other women as a compliment. I'm not in competition with any of them to see who's better . You shouldn't say shit like that about men, either," she added when he was about to speak. "It's a disservice to either sex if the only praise you can give damns someone else to do it."

All right, she had a point on that one. He didn't like backhanded compliments, either, and he had received plenty for his work with the _seidr._ "I shall try," he murmured finally.

She nodded at him in such a way that he felt like an errant schoolboy. Bruce returned to the table now that things seemed to be calm. Clint still appeared to be pleased by the tongue lashing Loki had received. The others remained silent. Had they been on the receiving end of such a speech before? Or did they also believe he had the wrong thinking pattern?

He felt very alone and hopeless. Loki remained silent for the rest of the evening and didn't try to join in on conversations or movie night with the others.

***

She never said she loved him. As attentive as she was to his needs, both in and out of the bedroom, she only had fond affection for him. During their outings together, he grew to know what meals or drinks or artwork she preferred. She cared about his opinion and did what she could to keep him busy consulting for SHIELD and Stark Industries. She introduced him to various neighborhoods in the tristate area, and he was enjoying his time on Midgard.

But she didn't love him. She _couldn't_ love him.

Was this enough? It was likely the best that he could hope for; he hadn't forgotten his sentence, not quite, but it didn't always feel relevant.

Jarvis was helpful, but he monitored everything and restricted his access to materials. He hadn't quite allowed himself to look into why he had been exiled to Midgard, and what he might have done while there. It had only been a handful of months, after all. He was content with Natasha, with absorbing the culture of this place, with being close to the others' camaraderie, if not taking part in it occasionally.

Something was missing. Something was wrong. It wasn't just his missing magic, but the way that the others danced around a topic he wasn't supposed to know was there. Natasha had intimated that he had done vile things, though she refused to discuss particulars. He wasn't supposed to know what had happened. The hole in his memory conveniently covered that time, as well as whatever caused the devastation in Midtown that it was still recovering from.

All right, he was a coward. Loki hadn't wanted to know that _he_ was responsible for what had happened to Midtown. Natasha and her friends lived there. Untold civilians lived and worked there. The death toll would have been terrible, and laid at his feet would absolutely justify how people were treating him. If he was responsible, then there could never be a way to earn Natasha's love and respect. If he was completely honest with himself, which he so rarely was, then he would know what the truth was.

But he didn't want to know. And he wanted to know. It would be harmful to know. It would be devastating and awful, and if it was true, _he would absolutely deserve it._

So he had put it off. But after the conversation with the Avengers the night before, he knew he couldn't let his ignorance stand. It wasn't just his status as an Asgardian that was at fault here, but a willful ignorance to the truth. That would apply to the abilities of women as well as the depths he could sink to.

Loki knew there was darkness deep down inside, a gaping maw of emptiness. He tried to say for centuries it was merely loneliness due to the _seidr,_ his studies, his interests. But he was different from the other warriors and his brother, and he couldn't help but feel it. For a very long time he had excused it. If he stopped doing so, however... If he gave in to that darkness, fed it, nurtured his hatred and despair, let his differences overwhelm him... Had that difference driven him to do unaccountable evil?

Dreading what he would find, he went directly to the computer bank at the New York Public Library and signed up for his half hour of time. He browsed the stacks, stomach tied in knots, not really seeing the texts on Norse mythology that he initially had intended to read and laugh over that day. What was he going to find?

When his turn came up – he was Luke Odinson according to paperwork SHIELD had created for him to obtain a library card and credit lines – Loki slid into the seat in front of one of the computers and called up Google. He put in different search strings involving Manhattan, New York City, Midtown, devastation, destruction and rebuilding. As he searched and went through the different pages, most of them from newspapers and commentary blogs, he felt more and more ill. Photographs of the city were in blurred focus, grainy with expansion or crystal clear from a professional lens. In all of them were aliens called Chitauri, and some had photographs of Loki in his battle armor, glorying in the destruction as he led the Chitauri.

A spike of pain lanced through his temple. Though he winced, he continued to go through the articles he found. Aliens in New York bent on destruction and the takeover of the human race, led by Loki, another alien. There was more pain, a dull throbbing ache, as Loki read how he was defeated by the Avengers and returned to Asgard for trial and punishment by his people. He was considered an enemy to humans, and many bloggers thought that sending him away was too lenient a punishment. It was thought that he should have been tried on Earth and then locked in a specialty prison such as those built for mutants.

He knew the meaning of the word mutant. Pondering it sent more pain into his temples.

Frigga had sent him to this place, knowing about the damage he had wrought. His magic had been bound and his memories lost; conveniently, all the memories of this time were lost. Why had she done such a thing?

Loki closed out all of the windows and left, staggering out of the library like a drunken sot. It hurt to think or breathe, a spike of pain hammering into his temples repeatedly. He pushed past it, even when he was dizzy and nearly fell to his knees on the steps near one of the stone lions. Loki had to sit next to it, leaning against the stone. Even so, the pain continued. He knew it was meant to deter him from his own memories. Odin had said it was a side effect of the magic binding, but he wouldn't have done such a thing. Frigga would have, and she had always been careful with her spells. He wouldn't have had side effects from her spells.

Meaning they had been locked away deliberately.

Trembling, he didn't think he could make it around the block to Bryant Park. He continued to probe the blank spot in his memories. Ghostly afterimages were there, just as they had been at his sentencing. Poking at it like a sore tooth, Loki grit his teeth against the pain. Disappointment and rage, simmering beneath his skin. It hadn't felt familiar, yet at the same time he knew it to be his. His pain worsened further as he tried to figure out what had led him to be so angry, why he would have been so tortured.

He was coming up blank, but he would figure it out soon enough. Loki was no stranger to pain, hard work and struggling to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted right now was to remember, no matter the cost.

***  
***


	4. Final Decisions Are Made

Natasha had left messages on his phone and finally went looking for him. "You look like death," she said when she saw him on the steps to the New York Public Library. He felt awful as well, and barely managed to nod at her.

"C'mon, let me help you back home."

Home. Except Avengers Tower wasn't home for him, not really.

He was shaking when they arrived, and she sat him down in his suite. "Loki, what's happened?"

Her voice was caring and concerned. _It was all a lie._ She couldn't care, not after all that had happened between them before.

Looking up at her with a drawn expression, he drew away from her touch. "I remember."

Natasha frowned at him. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I know what happened here when the Chitauri arrived. I know what _I_ did." He grasped her arm painfully tight. "I remember _everything."_

She looked at him in surprise. "But you shouldn't."

"Because you and my _beloved mother_ saw to it that I would not," he snarled, anger starting to rise in his chest.

"I had nothing to do with that. I don't know magic," she pointed out.

That part was logical. But she never protested being involved. Of course not, she had been chosen to be his handler, after all. She would have been told about the spellwork, that he shouldn't have his memories, that she should control him however possible.

Disillusionment crashed into him, heavy and painful. She had played him for such a fool, worse than she had on the helicarrier. Not only had she cajoled information out of him, but he _loved her,_ even as he had been unable to love anyone else before.

Loki shook with rage and looked at Natasha. "Everything was a lie."

"No, it wasn't," Natasha told him seriously. "Everything you felt was real."

"But _you,"_ he cried, ashamed that his voice trembled. He could barely look at her calm demeanor. He had been like that once, yet now he wanted to cry and gnash his teeth like a woman. How could he face friend or foe alike, tainted by _ergi_ as he was now?

"I never lied to you," Natasha said patiently, kindly. As if he was a child to be soothed.

"This was all manipulation," he spat, anger rising and choking him. "Your superiors would have you bind me with lies and limb, have me beholden to you—"

"Stop it," Natasha said sternly.

"And I believed it. I _believed_ you—"

 _"Stop it,"_ she ordered, grasping his arm. His magic was bound, he couldn't harm her for this. Yet as much as her lies burned him like a brand, he could not return this pain in kind.

He _loved her,_ he was a fool, and it would pain him to see her cry, even if she deserved it.

"I was instructed to be your handler. Nothing more. Anything else between us was completely separate, because _I wanted to_ and because _you wanted to._ SHIELD knows nothing about that part of our relationship."

"How gracious of you," Loki spat. Rage bubbled up inside of him, corrosive and painful, choking him. His heart was breaking. Had she cared for him so little? Had it all been an act? He had been such a fool...

Natasha grabbed him by the shirtfront and _shook him,_ which made him curl his lip and snarl at her, releasing some of his anger in her direction. "Listen to me!" she snapped, losing whatever hold on her patience she had. Good. Let her feel even a fraction of the pain he felt, the humiliation and disappointment. Again, he had been used. Again, he had put his faith in someone else and been destroyed.

"Why? To let you burden my ears with more lies? Isn't that what you do? Lie to me and ensure my cooperation and keep this realm safe. I won't try to rule it or destroy it to please you. _Was that your intent?"_

"You love me," Natasha said, not releasing her hold on his shirt and not flinching back from his snarling. Even when his spittle landed on her face, she didn't flinch. "I don't love you, but I've never lied about that. I _can't_ love, I'm not that kind. But I care about what happens to you, Loki. It matters."

"One mortal life in the balance for billions," Loki sneered. "That I would fall for such a trap, seduced by the feel of your skin—"

"Shut up. You're hurt, I get it. But I didn't betray you, I didn't lie to you. _We_ were never a lie. I didn't fuck you because someone told me to. _I wanted to._ I wanted you in my bed, I wanted you kissing me. No more, no less. I wanted you, and you wanted me. If you weren't too busy drowning in your self-pity, you'd realize that."

"And I'm to believe you now? Strike a bargain with you?" he sneered. They both remembered the first time they had met, aboard the helicarrier, when he had underestimated her and called her a mewling quim. What a mistake that had been! "Is that your role now? Barter with you for the safety of the world?"

"This isn't about the fucking world, Loki," she said, exasperated. Natasha let him go, and part of Loki keened with loss. "Right now, this is you and me. This is about you finally getting your memories back. Now you know what happened in New York. Now you know why your mother hid your memories and locked up your magic. So what are you going to do about it?"

He gave her a sullen look. "I should raze this entire planet to the ground for what you've done to me," he said, but the rage had died out from his tone. All that was left was despair.

"I didn't bring you here." She reached out and touched his face, and Loki flinched. His chest hurt and his throat was closing up. By the Norns, what a woman he was. He was indeed tainted by _ergi,_ and thank the Living Tree that the Warriors Three and Sif and Thor couldn't see him in his disgrace like this. "Loki. What we have is real."

Wrenching himself from her, he wanted to burn everything around him and scream. He wanted to scrape his nails across her soft skin, see the blood well to the surface and know he had repaid her at least a fraction of the hurt she had just dealt him. He wanted to watch hope die in her eyes, to have everything she loved go up in flames.

"It's not real," he said heavily. "How can it be? I'm a monster. A relic. A spoil of war to be locked away and hidden until trotted out when needed. I'm the thing they tell wayward children about. The creature of nightmares skulking about in the dark." He closed his eyes and tried to feel the bound edges of his magic. But as it had been since his arrival on Midgard, it was lost to him until Odin and Frigga saw fit to release it. Now he knew that could never be.

"So if you can't be a good man, you'll be a better monster?"

_"I am what they made me!"_

"Frigga made you her son," Natasha said softly. She reached out and grasped his arm, ignoring when he tried to pull away. "Not of her flesh and blood, sure, but she raised you. She loves you, for better or for worse. She did this because she loves you, and thought it could save you from being locked up for the rest of eternity."

He was shaking his head, the pain in his chest blossoming into something that was choking him, burying him in grief. The rage would come again soon enough, and that would be soothing in comparison, a warmth he could give himself over to. Better to feel rage than this staggering pain, to want to rip his heart out of his chest and cleave it in two.

Natasha grasped his arm again, and he actually raised his fist as if to strike her. It never landed, and she didn't flinch from that, either. "Would you feel better if you hit me?" she asked, voice devoid of emotion.

Ashamed of himself, Loki lowered it. "No," he said softly.

"The spell has come undone. What do you want to do now?"

Bury himself deep inside her body. Silence her lying tongue. Storm Asgard.

"You're right," he rasped finally, "in that you didn't ensorcel me. I came to your bed willingly," he admitted. It felt as though every syllable was being dragged out of him from the depths of Hel. "But I don't forgive the lies. I don't forgive the manipulation. I cannot."

"I suppose I can't ask you to."

"More red for your ledger," he sneered, hoping to hurt her.

But her expression remained impassive. "You were adopted—"

"Stolen," he hissed.

"—and raised as a royal prince, with all that entails. I was taken from my parents as their bodies burned and turned into a weapon." Loki grew very still, knowing that this admission was a closely guarded secret that she now gave him freely. "Which is better?"

His situation, of course, though he would not admit it to her. "Am I to feel beholden to them? To you? Grateful for the scraps of attention I received?"

"I'm not telling you how to feel," Natasha said tiredly, not breaking eye contact. "I've never told you how to feel."

No, she hadn't. His emotional involvement had been entirely his own doing; she had actually been exceedingly fair in her dealings with him, amazingly enough.

"So what now?" she asked again, a measure of sadness in her tone. It couldn't be real. But this was the third time asking, and there was power in threes.

"Burn my blood, sift through the ash and comb the shadow." Ancient words even when he was a boy first learning magic at his mother's knee.

Time for retribution.

***

Heimdall would not allow Loki passage into Asgard, so he had to take roundabout routes. It was a task made far more treacherous by his constricted magic. Without the ability to open portals directly, he had to leapfrog realms through the soft spaces between them. One of Midgard's soft places was actually at the top of Avengers Tower thanks to the Tesseract's presence earlier. The spot didn't lead to any particular location, so Loki could shift the fabric of space and time to force it to become a portal.

Taking one of his knives, he carved runes into the palm of his left hand and gathered the few shadows present on the rooftop. He was missing the ashes from his desired location, but he didn't need to make a permanent portal. Once he got to Asgard, he would figure out where to go next, if he actually left.

Likely, he was going to die, branded a traitor to the throne. His supposedly royal blood was the only reason he had gotten imprisoned beneath the palace rather than hung, but Loki was sure coming back to Asgard against Odin's wishes would forfeit his life this time.

Closing his fist around his spilled blood, he shoved it into the soft space in front of him. _To Agard,_ he thought. He had cut his palm deeper than necessary, but the runes sparked to life even as his blood spilled over his palm to hit the ground, sizzling. The air began to shimmer, resolving into familiar gardens on Asgard.

He could see Natasha standing there, watching him with luminous eyes and a pained expression on her face. Not disappointment or anger, but more like sympathy for the hurt she had been part of. He didn't understand it; he had denigrated her, taken her best friend and wreaked havoc in her city without remorse.

He had also been kind and tender toward her during this stay in New York, and he loved her without reservation. If he was honest, he _still_ loved her.

Loki walked through the portal without a backward glance or indication of farewell.

The garden he arrived in was one of Frigga's favorites, one that they had spent time in together when he was a child under her tutelage. It was familiar and comfortable, an easy spot to anchor himself to. Heimdall would see him soon, so he was on borrowed time.

Frigga was easy to find, sitting in her study surrounded by ancient texts he had never been allowed to touch. Her mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of him. "Loki..."

"I remember," he spat at her. "Everything you took from me, _I remember."_

The blood drained from her face; he supposed he had hoped she would deny it, would claim innocence in this situation. That would make it easier to blame Odin for all his troubles. But no, only Frigga could have bound him so completely in this manner.

"You don't understand—" she began.

"Did you have a good laugh at my expense? The poor fool you've played your tricks on, the relic locked away until needed? Did it please you, outwitting the trickster at his lowest point?"

"Stop it," Frigga cried. For a moment, he thought of Natasha saying the same thing, trying to get his attention when he wanted to rip them to shreds. "There was no other way. Your father—"

_"He is not my father!"_

Frigga's eyes were glassy with unshred tears, her lips trembling. "Am I not your mother?"

He had hurt her. He _was_ hurting her. But he wanted her to feel as he did, so he steeled himself against her emotions. "No, you are not."

She bit her lip. "So perceptive about everyone but yourself."

"Did you think it was a wonderful jest? What laughs you and Odin must have had at my expense. And Thor! He must be glad of it. Now there is no competition for the throne."

"It's not about the throne! Millions are dead because you could not contain your anger. Innocents were sacrificed on the altar of your pride. You can be better than that, Loki. I raised you better than that!"

"What else do you expect of a monster?" he asked in snide tones. "I destroy everything I touch."

Frigga sighed and caught hold of his arm, holding fast even when he tried to pull away from her, lips curling in derisive anger. "You are my son," she said, enunciating carefully.

"I'm a relic, stolen and kept apart—"

"You would have died," Frigga interrupted. "It was war, and Odin found you in one of their temples, left exposed to die." Her voice fractured on that last word. "We'd just lost a child, he lost an eye and there was so much death. He couldn't leave you behind."

Loki wanted to believe her. Odin had never explained anything, it wasn't his way. He thought of her prior attempt to explain – _We didn't want you to feel any different_ – and knew there was more to this story. "Jotnar were the enemy. The monsters in the dark."

She clasped his face in her hands, her usual loving expression on her face. "You had magic, and it's likely the reason why you would have been sacrificed. I never knew who your parents were, but we guessed the King. You'd been swaddled in fine cloth, embroidered with fantastic designs that looked like it was the workings of the _spá."_ Loki froze, staring at her with wide eyes. "Odin could see enough to know that you could have perished there, or you could live with us. And he chose the path of life."

"You changed the _spá,"_ he whispered hoarsely.

"I had to. I had to ensure that you would live. And I struck a bargain with Odin to do it again, Loki. You would have been imprisoned beneath the palace for eternity, and it was already starting to drive you mad. I had to save you." She blinked away tears and brought his forehead to her lips for a kiss. "I would do anything to spare you that, Loki. You must understand that. I know you need punishment. Millions died. You worked to ensure the genocide of the Jotnar, mortals on Midgard died." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "But it would be better to make reparations, to pay some kind of weregild, than to rot in a cell, no matter how gilded it could be."

"So you changed my _spá."_ For some reason, Loki couldn't get past this. Frigga changed who he should have been not once but twice.

And then it clicked. To do such a thing invited terrible consequences. Most of the old tales warned against such magicks, as it could reduce the practitioner to ash, and the shadows of the Norns would come to claim the remains. Only the Norns could know all of the _ørlögs_ and the shape of the _spá._

"What have you done?" he asked in horror, his eyes widening in fear. It didn't matter that she wasn't his birth mother, that he was angry with her for her interference. None of that mattered if she invoked the wrath of the Norns.

She had to live. She was one of the few he actually loved fiercely.

Her smile was pained and her eyes shone with unshed tears. "Nothing I wouldn't repeat."

_"I am not worth such danger!"_

"Of course you are. You are my son."

The words were said simply, as if it was one of the foundational truths of the realm. Loki wanted to rip her hands from his face, to scream, to make her take it all back. He was _not_ worth her life. He was Jotun, the evil that he had been counseled against since childhood. He was tainted by _ergi_ and he was an ungrateful wretch that could only destroy.

Now he could see the added protection runes stitched into her clothing and worked into her jewelry. He could feel the added layers of wards on the palace. The oddity he had seen in the Bifrost and Heimdall's Observatory was likely not simply aftereffects from its repair, but her protection spells embedded into it.

"How close are they?"

"Only three knew how to do that working. Karnilla's dead. There was an old wise woman in the Cavern of the Deep, but she could be mad already. And there's me."

Loki's horror was magnified by this simply told statement. He was dimly aware of the palace guard coming into the study, but Frigga held up a hand to halt their progress. Loki only had eyes for Frigga. She wasn't lying to him about this. She may have withheld information from him as he was growing up, but in this she was telling him the truth. He could only stare, mouth parted, unable to say anything.

"So you have returned," Odin said as he entered the study, coming to stand behind Frigga. His features were as stern and emotionless as they had been at his second sentencing, when he was exiled to Midgard. "Do you think to flaunt my generosity?"

"I didn't come here for you," Loki snapped, not even looking at Odin. He was still focused on Frigga, memorizing the shape of her face and the drawn lines around her eyes and mouth. He still had his blood in his fist, and he thrust it toward her free hand. "Take it back."

"I can't, Loki," she murmured gently, closing her hands around his, uncaring of the clotting blood smearing all over her sleeves and overtunic. "And even if I could, I would not."

_"Take it back!"_

She squeezed her hands around his. "Take this gift, Loki. You have a second chance. You can repair the damage if you choose to, make it up to the souls you harmed on Midgard. A new life, a chance to be the man I know you can be."

"I am not and cannot be this thing," Loki snarled. He was the shadow to her brightness, the rot within the heart of Asgard that had to be eliminated.

"The mortals will teach you, if you let them."

Loki curled his lips in derision. But he remembered Natasha's talks about society's ills, working with Bruce and Tony to improve technology, talking with Steve about justice and history. Had they all been helping him in their own ways? And even Clint with his absence... that was a barometer for his monstrousness, was it not? He couldn't even bear to look at Loki initially, let alone sit in the same room as him.

"Their lives are fleeting," Loki sneered. "A heartbeat, a season. Then they are nothing."

The reality of his words hit him like a physical blow just then. All of them would be gone, and he would outlast them. He alone would continue on, lost. Natasha would be dead, his bright yet damaged Natasha, whom he had wronged so frequently.

"So learn from them while they still live," Frigga said gently. "Before you lose everything."

He was nothing, though. No home, no purpose, no magic.

"I already have," Loki replied, bitterness and loathing heavy in his voice.

"If you are here," Odin began, cutting off what Frigga was going to say, "I suppose the spells have broken." His tone was light, as if nothing of import had occurred.

"I have my memories back," Loki snarled at him. "I know how you renounced my efforts, threw me from the bridge, left me for dead—"

"No one has ever survived between the branches of Yggdrasil!" Odin boomed.

Frigga winced. "Stop. This solves nothing..."

"No one threw you," Odin scoffed, making a dismissive gesture. "You are overwrought and deluded, Loki. You perpetuate madness and call it truth."

"You are a tired and bitter old man, a thief waiting to die."

 _"Enough!"_ Frigga cried before it could escalate. If she had intervened like this before, would Loki have been in this state now?

"My dear..." Odin began.

"Enough," she repeated, a hand on Odin's chest to placate him and her other still on Loki's bloodied hands. "You are both stubborn and unable to listen in this state."

Odin compressed his lips unhappily. "If memories have returned, then the other spells' anchors likely have loosened as well."

Which meant Loki's magic would return someday. It wouldn't always be lost to him. He could be at full strength, able to do complicated spells again. Hope sparked, bright and painful, and he turned toward Frigga for confirmation. He could see it in her eyes, that if her anchor spells had been pulled asunder already, the rest of the foundations were likely weak as well.

And maybe the Norns wouldn't seize her soul because of what she had done.

"Yes, the anchor spells came loose somehow." She turned to Loki. "If you stop clamoring for blood, perhaps the rest will loosen as well. I had hoped they would be permanent, Loki. I saw the reports Agent Romanoff had prepared for the Director. You were my son again, capable of such heart, such determination to do right. That's what I want for you. I don't want you to be bowed by the weight of rage and disappointment." Frigga grasped Odin's hand and brought it forward toward Loki, who stiffened. "We raised you, Loki. You are our child, even if not of our blood. I am sorry you found out in the way you did. We did have the best intentions, and have only ever wanted the best for you, whatever that may be."

Loki wanted to believe her, wanted to keep her proffered love. Perhaps he wouldn't be so monstrous or cruel. He doubted he could be a good man, but perhaps he wouldn't be _evil._

"Your words fall on deaf ears," Odin said after a few moments of silence, yanking his hand away from Loki. Typical. Loki didn't respond in the way he expected or wanted, and Odin withdrew.

"No, they do not," Frigga said quietly, still looking at Loki. Her intense gaze softened. "You don't have clever words. Or cruel ones. You don't wish to appear weak, so you remain silent instead, knowing that assuming the worst of you at least makes you look strong."

The woman had a preternatural sense of him that she didn't used to have. Loki could only assume it was because of Natasha's reports. "Your best intentions have done me harm," Loki said finally, surprised when his voice came out as a strangled rasp.

"We did no such thing!" Odin boomed just as Frigga quietly said "I'm sorry." He looked at her incredulously, as if she never should have spoken.

"And will you kill me for my audacity?" Loki asked Odin with a sneer, gut twisting with anxiety.

He snarled and yanked his hand out of Frigga's grasp. "Ungrateful traitor. After all we've done for you, the honor bestowed when we called you son..."

 _"Honor,"_ Loki choked bitterly. "Only when you believed me useful."

Unbidden, he thought of Natasha and the rest of the Avengers. She had been stolen as a child, taken away from parents that burned to death. He didn't know the circumstances for the others, but none of them had living parents either. They were orphans, one and all, and forged a family together, built of respect and friendship. They were allies in the truest sense, and Loki had wanted so badly to be part of it, even as he knew he could not.

"Useful?" Odin scoffed despite Frigga's quelling gaze. "To house a viper in our midst is not useful in the least!"

"Stop it, both of you!" Frigga cried. "I won't have you drive away our son," she directed at Odin sternly. "And I won't have you deliberately misunderstand us," she told Loki.

"What would you have me do?" he asked, intending to sound callous and cruel. Instead, it was a wistful note, the voice of a lost boy.

Frigga lifted her hand, much as she had with the palace guard, and Odin stayed his tongue. It was a rather impressive display, given how upset Odin appeared to be. Loki recalled Natasha telling him that Asgardian misogyny should not exist, and he saw that was so in Frigga. She was not a simpering female by any stretch of the imagination.

And he was going to lose her.

"Return to your exile," she said. Though she was kind, she was not going to relent. "You have not begun to pay your weregild and there is much still to learn. You owe them, Loki. It's time to fix the mistakes that you have made. Honor the _spá_ and be the man you should be."

"You changed it," Loki said simply. "You can't know who I should be."

"You would have been dead otherwise," she replied, clearly not going to apologize. Her hand was still lifted to halt Odin's outbursts, and Loki wondered how she knew that he wanted to say something so desperately. "That was my doing. With some help, but my doing. Would you be angry with me for that? That I made it so you would live, you would learn, you would have a family to grow up with? And in changing it again, would you be angry with me for giving you a chance to redeem genocide?"

Now he thought of the sneering words he had thrown at Natasha on the helicarrier. _Can you wipe out that much red? Your ledger is dripping with blood, gushing with it._ If her ledger was dripping and gushing blood, his own was a deluge.

"You can't redeem genocide."

"You won't know until you try."

"Foolish optimism."

"Right now, it's why I'm alive."

Loki blanched and saw Odin tighten his jaw. Oh, no wonder Odin was so angry with him. Not only had Loki embarrassed and displeased him, he was the reason that Frigga's life was hanging on by a slender thread.

"You cannot return to Asgard," Odin said ponderously. It was likely out of deference to Frigga and her feelings. "All of the ways will be closed to you."

It was on the tip of Loki's tongue to say that there were more ways in and out of Asgard than what Odin knew, but he kept silent. Better that Odin think he was cowed. If he could sneak a return in to see Frigga before the Norns claimed her...

After Odin left, boots ringing on the tile and stone floor, Loki turned to Frigga. "I created the way here. Temporary, but..."

"Urðr knows all that is," Frigga began gently. "She allowed you through. We cannot rely on such things working all the time."

If anything, that made Loki feel even more afraid.

"You can't come back, or all this would be for naught. Live on Midgard. I can't let you destroy the chance I've given you."

Loki managed not to cry and display the _argr_ that surely was there. _Mother,_ he wanted to say. _You can't leave me._

Though the words stopped up in his throat, Frigga seemed to know what he couldn't say. She gathered him in her arms. "Loki. I don't want to leave the protection of the palace. You understand. You cannot return. But we have spells to communicate, other messengers. You are not as alone as you fear."

He held her tightly, knowing it was for the last time he would ever see her. "I would never ask for this."

"You didn't ask," she reminded him gently. "I willingly did this to help you. So don't let this all be in vain, Loki. Grow. Learn." She gave him a sad smile. "See what the realms have to offer, Loki. Just because you cannot return to this one doesn't mean the other eight are closed to you as well. There are opportunities waiting for you."

"I will never be _good,"_ Loki murmured.

She smiled. "It's all right. We weren't, either." One last hug, then he could see determination in her expression. "Come. Time to go, Loki."

Frigga started sketching a circle on her floor, complicated runes and protections. "I'm going to send you back to Midgard. I won't trouble Heimdall with this. He'd make a big fuss, and it will startle all the mortals there." She paused as she sketched runes into the circle. "Where on Midgard would you like to go?"

Loki let out a long, slow breath. "Return me where I was," he said softly. Natasha and the others would be there. For better or for worse, it was the only home he had left.

"I love you, my son." She stood tall and proud as he entered her circle. "Be worthy of that love."

He wished he had a snappy answer, something that she could remember for years to come, however many she had left. But his heart squeezed in his chest, and it was all he could do not to break her circle and beg to stay with her. "I'll try," he said, voice breaking. "But I don't know if I can. I'm broken, Mother."

She was shedding the tears he couldn't. "I know, Loki. But let them fix you. Let them fill the spaces we couldn't, and show you what you can be."

One more rune, and it was complete. Loki lifted his hands in farewell, agony etching itself deeply onto his soul. He did this. This was all his fault. Her death and this estrangement was all his fault, and there was no one else he could shift the blame onto.

A word of power, and then he was flung from Asgard back to Midgard.

***

Loki lay sprawled across the rooftop of Avengers Tower, feeling as though his chest had been pressed flat and all of his internal organs had been extruded through his ears. He remembered this, too, after the Hulk had tossed him about like a rag doll. Soft footsteps were coming from off in the distance, but he simply closed his eyes. The presence came closer, and soon sat down beside him. "So. Still alive," Natasha said softly. He appreciated that.

"Possibly a better outcome than I deserve," Loki murmured.

"Definitely a better one," she corrected. A long pause, then her fingers came to rest lightly on his wrist. "What happened?"

"I am permanently cast out. Exiled for eternity, never to see the shining city again. Never to see Frigga again, for she cannot leave the protections she placed on the palace. Her price for the spells she cast upon me." Loki wasn't sure why he was telling her the truth in such a bleak tone of voice. But when he opened his eyes, she wasn't gloating. She was as steady as ever, eyes luminous as she gazed upon him.

"You're not alone," Natasha told him quietly. "You never were, if only you could see it."

"I thought I would destroy them. I was angry enough to," he admitted, not sure why he was telling her this. Perhaps because she of all people could understand it.

"What stopped you?"

Loki thought about it, trying to put his tangled feelings into words. "I didn't have to. My—My mother," he finally choked out, "destroyed her future to give me a new one. And I felt nothing at all when Odin arrived."

"Nothing? Are you sure about that?"

His bitter laughter was more like a cough. "All right. I still think he's a pompous fool, and I hate all the things he's said. I hate that I could never be good enough." Loki took a breath. _I could never make him love me, could I? I'm not his trueborn son,_ he thought. But he wasn't willing to say it aloud and sound like a swaddling child after a nightmare.

Natasha curled her fingers around his wrist, soothing the skin there. "Or maybe he just doesn't have the words to tell you. Anger is easy. It covers up a lot of emotions. Ask Bruce sometime, if you want to know."

"I would stay here?" Loki asked, surprised in spite of himself. After all, where else could he go?

"Your arrangement with SHIELD wasn't contingent on your memories."

"And you?" Loki asked, hating himself for having to ask.

"It depends," Natasha replied, voice even.

"On what?"

"On you." She was a woman of few words sometimes.

Loki let his eyes fall shut. He was tired, wrung out and ready for oblivion to take him. "I would mourn the loss of you."

"Play your cards right, and maybe you won't have to."

He smiled faintly and moved his hand so that he could hold hers. "I was happy, I think. As happy as I knew how to be. But I didn't remember then. Now I do." He kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see her expression. "All I have is rage."

"If that was true, we wouldn't be talking right now. I'd be dead and this building would probably be a blasted crater." Natasha paused thoughtfully. "There's a time and place for rage. It can be used, honed like a tool, held steady until it's needed. Of anyone, Bruce is the living embodiment of that premise. He's not the only one. Your rage would only consume you if you let it."

He had nothing clever to say in response. "I'm tired," he finally admitted.

"Can you get up? I'll help you to your room, and you can sleep it off."

A stronger man might refuse her, walking himself to his own room, no sign of weakness for others to pounce on. But he wasn't a strong man, was he? He certainly wasn't a good one, either, yet she was still sitting at his side. Her very presence gave him comfort, that he wasn't as alone as he feared he was. Midgard didn't have the same concept of _ergi,_ and he did owe them a very large weregild.

He opened his eyes and looked into Natasha's. His decision to make, a brand new _spá_ to follow as it took shape.

"I can make it," he said with finality. "Take me home."

The End


End file.
